Buzz
by BiscuitsForPotter
Summary: To Draco Malfoy, Hermione Granger is nothing more than his boss. But when Draco makes an interesting discovery about Hermione's side-hustle, it could change their dynamic for good.
1. Chapter 1

**This story is three chapters total. It is already written and beta'd, and ready for your reading pleasure. I haven't decided how often I will release chapters. No later than one week apart, but I may break and post sooner.**

**Ten million thank-you's to GracefulLioness for your amazing Alpha and Beta work on this piece. This story would not be nearly as good if you hadn't helped me.  
**

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Draco groaned as he stepped up to the innocuous Muggle flat. He knew who was just behind this red door, and she was not someone he really wanted to see on a Friday evening after a very long work day. And as she had not given him Floo access nor had she allowed him past her Apparition wards, he was forced to stand at her front door like an idiot.

Looking like an idiot in front of Hermione Granger was the worst.

Not only was that the worst because she was apparently a chronic, insufferable know-it-all since birth. Oh, no.

She was also his boss, Merlin help him.

The two of them had started at the Department of International Magical Cooperation at the exact same time immediately out of Hogwarts. They had interned together for a whole year, sitting side by side at the same cramped desk, fetching coffees and copying memos without so much as a thanks from the department heads. But after that year was up and they were both due for a promotion, the damn witch managed to sweet talk her way up levels above him. While he was still a paper-pusher, she was junior deputy department head at age twenty-six. And the cherry on top? He now answered directly to her.

On this particular work day, they sat through an all-day meeting in preparation for a Minister's summit to be held in Croatia the following week. Draco spent the entire day sitting directly to Hermione's left, helping her organize notes and check boxes. Of course, the topic of the meeting was exciting – he actually really enjoyed his area of work. And Granger was, admittedly, good at her job.

He just didn't enjoy being bossed around by Hermione Granger on the clock.

And now, unfortunately, he was likely about to be bossed around by her off the clock as well.

Taking a deep breath, he drew back his fist and knocked twice.

Immediately, he heard a magically-enhanced voice answer. "You're here a little early, but come on in!"

_Early?_ Was Granger expecting someone?

Whoever she was expecting, it certainly wasn't him. There was no way she could expect him to drop by unannounced on a Friday night to inform her that they would have to pull an all-nighter.

Draco pushed the door open and stepped inside the flat. It looked exactly how he imagined Hermione Granger's flat would: neat, comfortable, and filled floor-to-ceiling with books. On her sofa sat an old, grumpy-looking orange cat. The crimson curtains lining the windows reminded him far too much that this woman was a Gryffindor through and through. Draco had to restrain an eyeroll.

The one thing missing from this picturesque flat was its owner. Granger was nowhere to be seen. After standing in the doorway for a couple minutes without so much as a greeting, Draco began tapping his foot. Where was she, anyway? They had so much work to do, and if there was going to be any hope of sleeping tonight, they needed to get started immediately.

She had called him into her flat, but where was she?

Draco cleared his throat loudly.

"Be just a second!" she called from some room down the hallway.

Well, if Granger wasn't going to respect his time, then he saw no need to respect her space. It had been a long day and would continue to be long, after all, so he thought he might as well get comfortable. Toeing his shoes off, Draco padded over to the sofa in his socks and collapsed beside the sleeping cat. It glared at him before turning to face the other direction.

After sitting in a stiff, wooden office chair, this was heaven. He felt himself sink into the cushions and let out a deep sigh. It had been a very long, trying day. Perhaps, just perhaps, he could tell the Department of International Magical Cooperation to fuck off for one night. This was an incredibly comfortable sofa, and if he wasn't careful, he might just find himself dozing–

"Malfoy? What are you doing here?"

Draco jumped to his feet, whipping around. There stood Granger, eyes wide, her face drawn backward and her mouth pursed. Yes, it was safe to say that she hadn't realized it was him at the door.

"Granger, I–"

Draco paused and blinked.

What in the hell was she wearing?

The normally-buttoned up junior deputy department head was not wearing her usual high-neckline, long-skirt business robes. She was not even wearing proper clothes, it seemed.

Tight and leaving nothing to the imagination, the light pink shirt (could you really call it a shirt?) that Granger wore had thin straps stretching over her shoulders. Just below that, she wore some short pants that barely covered her bum.

Had Granger always had such a nice bum?

Draco thought back to all the time they had spent together, both as Head Boy and Girl during their eighth year and subsequently as interns at the Ministry. Not once had he noticed her bum. And it wasn't just that he hadn't noticed it; it had actually never occurred to him that she would even _have_ a bum.

He shook himself mentally. No, that train of thought was not somewhere he needed to follow. He had come to her flat tonight for a specific purpose; that purpose did not include ogling her surprisingly delicious figure. Clearing his throat, Draco found a spot on the wall just behind her head and focused on it while he addressed his boss.

"Sorry I didn't owl ahead, Granger, but we've got a bit of a situation on our hands." His eyes flicked momentarily to her face, and he watched her expression morph from anger to concern in an instant, her arms folded over her chest.

"What's going on?"

"I just got a memo as I was about to head home. A new round of protocols for the summit has been released and needs revision by eight the next morning."

"Fuck," Hermione swore under her breath.

Draco's eyebrows shot up. He had never heard the Gryffindor golden girl swear before. Even in the most stressful moments while studying for NEWTs, not once did foul language cross her lips. The dirty word rolled off her tongue with ease, which told him that perhaps, she secretly had a filthy mouth. Were there other occasions that made her whisper words like that? The thought sent a shiver up his spine…

No. He couldn't have these thoughts now. Not when he was standing in Granger's home, uninvited, and about to pull an all-nighter of work with her.

"Do you have the protocols on you?" Hermione asked, raising her eyebrows expectantly.

"Yes. Of course," Draco pulled a long, rolled-up tube of parchment from his magically-extended briefcase and handed it over to his boss. "The Croatian delegation is really specific in their rules. We're going to have to rearrange everything if we want to meet these standards."

He watched as Hermione's eyes moved across the parchment, taking in their contents with a clear heightening rise in alarm with each passing second.

"I'm sorry, they want _whom_ in attendance? That's not possible. And these security requirements are obscene." Hermione groaned, running a hand through her bushy mane. "We're going to have to rework the entire budget and logistics plan."

Draco nodded. "And like I said, they want it by tomorrow morning at eight."

"Double buggering fuck," Hermione muttered as she swept from the room and back up the hallway.

Draco stood frozen in front of the sofa. This was absolutely a side of Hermione Granger he had never seen before. Sure, he had seen her angry loads of times before. But then, she had been dressed head to toe in a modest school uniform and she hadn't sworn like a dragon keeper. Was she going to be swearing like this all night?

He wasn't sure if he was looking forward to it or dreading every second.

Hermione returned moments later, a soft-looking blue dressing gown wrapped around her body. She walked around him and settled down on the sofa, patting the spot beside her. Draco lowered himself back onto the cushions. Hermione summoned a small desk from the corner of the room as well as two quills and some rolls of parchment. Snatching the items out of the air, she turned to him with a sigh. "Right. Let's get started."

Four hours in, and they were in the thick of revisions. Hermione had ordered Chinese takeaway; half-empty containers with noodles, vegetables, and meat as well as stacks of unfurled parchment lined the floor, where the two of them had ended up after needing the space to lay out their work.

The clock ticked close to one in the morning.

Draco drummed his fingers on the floor as he considered a sentence he had just written. "So you're sure this order of events will allow us enough time to give the Ministers a break?"

Hermione looked up from where she was leaned over the original memo and blew a stray lock of hair from her face. "Positive."

He sighed, leaning back onto the foot of the sofa and closing his eyes. "Great. Just a few more things to get in order and we can both go to sleep."

"You can go if you want, Malfoy. I'm sure I can finish the rest by eight o'clock and find a little time to sleep."

Draco opened his eyes and looked over at his boss. She had returned to scratching away on the parchment with her quill. Though she seemed as focused as ever, he could see the beginnings of dark bags under her eyes.

"No way, Granger. There's too much work here for you to do by yourself." Hermione shot him a smile. "Besides, when else am I going to see the famous Hermione Granger in a dressing gown?"

She rolled her eyes and shoved a parchment at him. "Here. Since you're so keen to stay, take a look at this report and help me run the numbers,_ assistant of mine_."

Chuckling, he had just begun to read when the Floo roared to life, illuminating the sitting room with a bright green glow. Draco shielded his eyes momentarily as a witch stepped through in a grey dressing gown.

"Hermione, I'm here to pick up – oh." The witch paused, seeming to take in the scene before her. Her eyes lingered on Draco a little longer than he would have liked, and he felt his cheeks heat slightly under her wide-eyed gaze. "Should I come back? Is this a bad time?"

Draco turned to face Hermione. She had gone white as a sheet. Narrowing his eyes, he watched as Hermione blinked and swallowed. She glanced in his direction and licked her lips.

_What in Merlin's name was going on here?_

Then, just as quickly as she had paled, her colour returned in full. The shock evaporated from her face, and a pleasant, businesslike smile stretched across her face. "Yes. Of course, Maeve. Come with me."

Draco watched in complete confusion as Hermione pushed herself to her feet and stretched before motioning to the woman to follow her down the hallway. In the distance, he heard a door open and close.

Though he strained his ears, no sounds came from the hallway.

First the clothes, then the swearing, and now a woman was showing up at one in the morning at Hermione's Floo? Who even was this woman he worked for? Did he know her at all?

There was something about the latter scenario that rang a bell in the recesses of Draco's memory. He had heard talk around the Ministry – in the canteen and the lifts, primarily – that Hermione Granger helped women… or something. One woman had commented in passing that Hermione had really helped her get over her boyfriend. He hadn't thought much of it at the time.

Then, several weeks later, a young, fresh-out-of-Hogwarts intern at the Department of International Magical Cooperation had whispered far too loudly over lunch that his boss was a goddess of sorts. Though he hadn't heard everything the witch said, he could have sworn he overheard the word "lioness."

He had assumed for months that Hermione was just really good at pep talks, and as that didn't particularly concern him, he couldn't really give a shit.

But now, sitting here in Granger's flat with a woman visiting at one in the morning, he was fairly certain it wasn't advice she was giving. What in Merlin's name was so important that it could drag Hermione Granger away from urgent work from the department?

Draco tried to continue reading over the report for the summit, but he ended up reading the same paragraph six times, the words simply refusing to enter his brain properly. Glancing at the clock, he saw that it was now a quarter past.

All of a sudden, he heard the door back in the hallway open again. Footsteps padded their way back toward him, and when Draco turned his head to face the witches, he only saw the visiting woman. She was clearly in a hurry, her face clearly glowing with glee. There was a plain, white box tucked under her arm.

"Have a nice night, sir," she practically giggled as she threw a small handful of Floo powder into the grate. It roared to life.

"Erm, where is Granger?" he asked tentatively. The witch turned back to him, an oddly mischievous grin on her face.

"Ooh, she's back in her office sorting out a handful of orders, but I'm sure she'll be back soon. You lucky wizard, you."

Draco raised an eyebrow at this comment but didn't respond as the witch disappeared into the green flames.

He was a lucky wizard? Why on earth would that be? And she was sorting out _orders?_ What kind of orders? What in the world was going on here?

Nothing about this night was adding up.

Shaking his head, Draco took a deep breath and dove back into the report. Time was ticking by, and if he wanted to get any sleep at all, he had better quit mucking about and get back to work. The report in his hands concerned all the bills up for discussion this year at the summit, and there was one in particular concerning centaurs that no one seemed willing to discuss. Hermione had spent over a year working with the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures to produce it, and he knew she would be furious if they didn't find a way to get it to the floor for discussion while in Croatia.

Hermione was a determined witch. That much was certain, even if he didn't understand the bizarre events of tonight.

_Determined._

The word sparked another memory from a few months back, once again from a ride in the lift. Two men had been having a disgruntled conversation when he stepped inside, and he had only had a few seconds to eavesdrop before they exited. Yet, the words stuck with him.

"Granger is determined to make all men look bad, I swear. My girl showed me hers, and she's insisting I use it. It's like I'm not good enough, or something…"

"She's just trying to make a knut off your girlfriend, mate."

"Nah. It's more than that. Uptight girl like her? There's got to be more than just money involved."

"Well,she is kind of frigid…"

The two men were clearly unaware that the third person occupying the lift worked very closely with Granger. And though Draco hadn't the foggiest idea what they were talking about, it had clearly been an insult. He had almost gotten riled up on her behalf. Almost.

Back in the present, Draco's eyes refocused on the parchment.

The bill. The centaurs. Right.

He rolled his shoulders as the clock rang, marking the half-hour. One-thirty.

Why wasn't Hermione back yet? Surely, she had finished the task in her office by now. The Granger he knew wouldn't get easily distracted from work like this.

This just wouldn't do.

Draco stood and stretched, and he felt his shirt come slightly untucked from his trousers. Normally, he might have been concerned with appearances or decorum, but seeing that it was the middle of the night and Hermione hadn't bothered to dress for the occasion, he saw no problem finishing the job by completely untucking the shirt and loosening his tie. His boss had been gone for nearly an hour, and it was his solemn duty as an employee to check on her to make sure she was all right. Careful to step over the takeaway containers, Draco walked past the couch and over to the hallway. There, at the far end, a thin beam of light peeked out from under one of the doors.

His sock-clad feet made no noise as he padded toward the door, though he was met with a shuffling sound as he drew closer. It sounded as though Granger was rearranging something. All of a sudden, the shuffling paused for a moment before there was a loud clatter of falling objects. A particularly large _clang!_ made Draco's eyes grow wide.

And then: "Shite!"

Hermione swore for the third time that night.

In three long strides, Draco was at the door. He thought for a moment about knocking, but hadn't he just heard a mountain of something falling over? Hermione could be hurt. She could be buried under boxes.

Bursting in, he began to yell, "Granger, are you all ri–" before the words died on his lips.

A mountain of small, white boxes had indeed fallen all around her. But that's not what drew Draco's eyes. He focused on her face, which had immediately turned the colour of a beet after he came in.

"Malfoy! Get out of here. This is my private office."

Draco blanched. "I was just making sure you were okay. You were gone for a long time after that witch left and then I heard the crash." With a flash of heat to his face, he realized that he must have sounded like he actually cared. Quickly, he corrected himself. "But clearly you're just fine, so we should probably get back to work."

His words were met by a moment of silence.

Well, it was almost silence. Something was making an odd sort of buzzing noise.

Draco's eyes fell to Hermione's hand, where she was holding something strange. It looked rather like a wand, but shorter and thicker, and blue. And it was buzzing.

"What in Merlin's name is that?" Draco asked, squinting in an attempt to identify the object.

He glanced up, expecting to see Hermione still looking thoroughly embarrassed. Instead, he found her staring at him, mouth open, eyes wide.

Draco straightened. "What?"

"You… you mean to say you don't know what this is?"

He felt his stomach drop to his feet. Should he know? Draco wracked his brain, but for the life of him, he had no idea what this blue, buzzing wand was. Gods, he hated looking like an idiot in front of Granger.

Draco Malfoy had swallowed his pride on many occasions in his adult life. No matter how many times he did it, it never got easier, and this time was no exception.

"No, Granger. I don't know what that thing is. Now can we please get back to–"

"You mean to say you have no idea what I'm holding in my hand?" Hermione had an odd sort of glint in her eye that made Draco wary. He gritted his teeth.

"Didn't I just say that I don't know? I also don't particularly care."

Gods, he didn't have the patience to be quizzed at nearly two in the morning.

Then, to his horror, Granger laughed. She was actually laughing at his ignorance.

"Oh my god," she said between giggles. "Why am I not surprised that you, Draco Malfoy, have no idea what a vibrator is?"

Vibrator? What needed to be vibrated? Clearly, his expression gave away his continued confusion, because Hermione seemed nothing short of highly amused.

"A vibrator is used for stimulation, Malfoy. Usually for women, though some men enjoy them as well."

Draco licked his lips. "I'm still not sure I–"

"Sex, Malfoy. It's used for sex."

Mouth dry, heart stopped, jaw on the floor, and face aflame, Draco Malfoy stared at the blue vibrator in Hermione's hand.

Sex? That… thing was used for sex? And what was Hermione Granger doing holding a sex object in her hand, completely unabashed? He had always pictured her to be the blushing virgin sort, what with her blouses buttoned up to her neck. And she had always been that way, hadn't she?

Draco immediately tried to remember what she looked like back at Hogwarts. The image of her younger self popped into his mind: unlike other girls, she had a perfectly pressed school uniform, regulation-length skirt, knee-high socks… yes, it all checked out. Hermione Granger had been a prude for as long as he had known her. And it wasn't for his lack of consideration. There had been a moment – a very short moment, of course – during their eighth year when he had considered asking her to Hogsmeade. Even though she tended to cover her assets thoroughly, they had spent enough time in close contact as Heads he had come to realize that she wasn't the annoying chit she had been in her earlier years. Not only that, but he couldn't help but notice at the time that her breasts seemed to be the perfect size for his hands. And the way she bit her lip when she was concentrating had been strangely distracting.

But then he considered his options for two seconds more and settled on Pansy instead. By his estimation, he was far more likely to end the date with a handjob if he went with his Slytherin classmate.

Just a year later, he had actually considered asking Granger out once more. They had gotten fairly close during their stint as interns, and he still had nearly daily impulses to touch her breasts. But then she had gotten promoted, and any warm feelings he might have had were buried beneath thick layers of envy and bitterness.

To make himself feel better, he had told himself that she wouldn't have put out anyway.

He dated Astoria instead.

Several years later, seeing her with this… thing in her hand, he couldn't help but wonder if he had been wrong back in eighth year. An onslaught of images filled his head, and they both confused and aroused him simultaneously. Draco's brain stalled as he tried to reconcile the two diametrically opposed impressions of Hermione Granger now battling within him.

Amidst his confusion, to his abject horror, he felt his cock twitch in his trousers. It seemed that part of his anatomy had made a decision for him.

And though his brain seemed to be misfiring, he managed to croak out a single word.

"How?"

Hermione sighed, glancing around at the mountains of boxes lining the office. Looking at her, it was as though she, too was waging some internal struggle over whether to let him in on her knowledge or keep him in the dark. After a moment, it seemed, she decided. Setting the blue item back in a box, she walked over to his side by the door. "Do you fancy some tea? We're going to need it if we're planning on both finishing the project tonight and having a discussion about female pleasure."

Draco found himself nodding, though he wasn't sure he was in control of his muscles any longer.

_Female pleasure? _Those two words alone were enough to make him feel as though he had been stupefied.

It was official. If Hermione Granger was about to lecture him about _female pleasure_ of all things, then dragons were surely about to breathe ice.

Hermione had insisted, like the responsible boss that she was, on finishing the work first. Fueled by a strong cuppa, they managed to get the paperwork in order by three-thirty. And although Draco's body ached for sleep, both his mind and his genitals were highly interested in what Hermione had to say.

Once she had sent the paperwork off to the Ministry by owl, Hermione returned back to the sofa and settled beside him.

"So," she began, wasting no time. "You want to know about the vibrator back in my office."

Draco nodded, though he tried not to do so too eagerly.

"That is one of over two dozen types of items sitting back there. It's my side business. I sell magically-compatible sex toys."

Draco nearly choked on his own spit at the last two words.

Hermione spoke them as though they were discussing quarterly reports.

He was now certain that his brain had misfired.

Were there such things as toys for having sex? Sure, he had had his fair share of romps over the years as he casually avoided his mother's pleas to settle down, but never had he heard of such objects. Was it a Muggle thing, sex toys?

He had so many questions. They all bounced around his head in a jumbled mess, and the more he lingered on them, the tighter his trousers seemed to grow.

From beside him, Hermione sighed. "Malfoy, it's going on four in the morning, As much as I want to explain my side business to you tonight, I'm not sure I have the energy."

Draco slumped in his chair, and Hermione clearly saw it, because she continued to speak, her hands fidgeting slightly. "I'm willing to reschedule if you want. Just not at work. I like to… erm… separate my two jobs, if you know what I mean."

He frowned. After having spent the past two hours fantasizing about what Granger meant by female pleasure, he would have to wait? It was almost torture. Still… she had offered for him to come back.

"Sure. Erm… when would be good for you?" He tried to keep his tone casual, though he was sure he was failing.

"We can talk tomorrow afternoon here at my flat. That way I can be more alert… really answer your questions. Part of what I do for this business is education, after all, and I would definitely be a horrible teacher right now."

_Teacher?_ Draco felt his erection swell at the incredibly naughty images that floated through his brain when he thought about having someone teach him the subject of female pleasure.

Even if Hermione Granger was going to be that teacher.

He still couldn't quite shake the images of her that had stuck in his head over the years: she was the buttoned up eighth year he had declined to ask out; she had been his co-intern that he had almost asked on a date again. And now? She was his boss. She was his boss who seemed to be even more buttoned up than ever. But when Draco compared those images to how she looked now, dressed in tight pyjamas and holding, of all things, a _sex toy_, he couldn't help but be confused.

As he bid her goodbye and stepped into the Floo, he couldn't help but wonder if he knew Hermione Granger at all.

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**Draco is in waaaaay over his head, don't you think? **

**Please review and let me know what you think!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Wow! What an incredible response to chapter 1! I'm so flattered that so many people are liking this little plunny that was born at random last month. **

**Huge thanks to GracefulLioness for her incredible beta work. Your help made this story shine. **

**I laughed 'til I cried writing parts of this chapter. I hope you will, too. **

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After almost seven hours of blissful, oblivious sleep, Draco woke up painfully hard at eleven o'clock the next morning. Staring down at the tent in his pyjamas, it was clear to him that all the strange experiences from the night before had absorbed into his subconscious. Though he couldn't remember dreaming about anything in particular, he knew exactly what was causing his raging hard-on: Hermione Granger holding something called a sex toy and offering to give him lessons.

It was a wonder he hadn't cum in his pyjamas in the middle of the night. How he managed to make it until morning was completely unknown to him. He finished his morning wank in record time, it seemed.

Casting a quick, _"Scourgify,"_ on his sheets, Draco rolled out of bed and headed to his ensuite bathroom to begin the day with his usual shower. There, to his great surprise, he found himself half-hard once again.

_Shite._ This hadn't happened to him since he was about fifteen. Draco took himself in hand as the hot water poured over him. Visions of Granger in those tight little pyjamas danced in his head, and he began to pump himself slowly and luxuriously. It was Saturday, after all, and he had nowhere to be until his lesson with Granger tonight.

His lesson with Granger. It was only in a few hours. She was going to show him how to use those sex toys.

Just thinking about it made him pump harder.

Draco leaned against the wall of the shower, his eyes shut tight. He could feel his balls tightening. Although he had wanted to take his time, it was clear that his release was imminent. He had to focus on something – anything to get him there.

Granger in those little shorts.

Granger holding that vibrating toy in her hand.

Granger running her hands down his body _until_–

Draco came with a grunt, his seed spilling onto the floor of the shower. His chest heaved with relief as he leaned his head back into the spray. He had never wanked to the thought of his boss before today. She was his boss, after all. Before that, she had been the swotty know-it-all who cared a little too much about books and house elves and not enough about the state of her hair.

_Or so you thought,_ whispered a voice in his head. _It turns out you hardly knew the woman at all._

Draco finished his shower and started up with the rest of his morning routine. As he went about the motions of getting dressed and eating a piece of toast with jam that had been delivered to his room by a house elf, he thought back to his previous encounters with women. There had been a handful, though certainly not as many as Blaise. That man had different women dripping from him practically every week. No, he could count his encounters with women on his fingers. Blaise bragged about his prowess and skill with women. Through the years, though Draco had come to accept that Blaise would always exceed him in _quantity_, he hadn't ever truly stopped to consider _quality_. How did he stack up in bed? He considered each girl individually.

First, there had been Pansy. They had been eighteen and clumsy about the whole thing. There was no doubt in his mind that Pansy had not come. There was no way. From start to finish, he had lasted two minutes. He could admit defeat at least this once.

Next, there had been Astoria. The two of them dated for almost two years a couple years after they graduated from Hogwarts. His mother had been on the verge of throwing them an engagement party when they had mutually decided to call it off. Thinking back on their sex life, Draco had certainly been satisfied. Astoria was a very attractive woman, and he could still remember the faces she made when they were together. They had been spectacular faces.

Yes, he was certain he had succeeded with Astoria.

After their breakup three years ago, Draco had slept with a handful of witches that he had met at social events and pubs. They had all shrieked in bed with him, and he had a sort of pride because of it.

All in all, Draco felt fairly confident in himself in that department. But when it came to that blue vibrating thing Hermione had been holding, he had no clue what to do. Frankly, it bothered him that there was a whole topic considering sex that he had never even heard of. It wasn't that he had to consider himself an expert or anything, but he would rather not be branded a novice.

Still, he wondered if there was any way he could learn even just a little something before he went over to Granger's. The idea of feeling like a complete idiot in front of her was rather unappealing, even if he was willing to learn from her. Just as he was about to brainstorm ways to occupy his time in a productive way, he saw the Floo roar to life out of the corner of his eye. From the fire, a head popped out.

"Oi, Malfoy, are you in?"

_Blaise. _

"Yes. Come through, Blaise."

Moments later, a tall, dark young man stepped into his bedroom through the grate. The green flames petered out almost instantly. Blaise, as always, strode with such confidence that he made Draco look positively humble.

"Draco, mate, I've got plans for us tonight." There was a glint in his eye that spelled out nothing short of trouble. The last time Blaise had approached him like this, he had woken up in some hotel unknown to him in Ibiza. Not that he had complained at the time. But any time Blaise was determined for Draco to have a good time, things tended to get a little wild.

With half reluctance, half relief, Draco raised his hands in surrender. "Sorry. I can't. I've got something going on tonight."

Blaise was also known to not take no for an answer.

"Come on, man. How long has it been since we went out together?"

Looking his friend up and down, Draco thought he looked ready to charm the knickers off witches. Frankly, that was what he got up to most Saturdays.

"A long time, definitely, but I really can't."

Blaise pouted for a moment before nicking a piece of toast off his breakfast tray.

"Suit yourself, then. More ladies for me."

There was a short pause when the only sound in his room was that of Blaise chewing on his toast. Draco's mind whirred in that silence. He wasn't sure why he said what he did next.

"I was at Granger's last night," he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

Blaise raised his eyebrows. "You? At Granger's?"

"For work," Draco interjected. "I was there for work until almost four in the morning. We got a last minute project."

Blaise nodded. "And why are you telling me this, Draco?"

A beat. He considered whether to mention the sex toys. After a moment, he decided not to.

"Did you know she wears incredibly tiny pyjamas around her house? I had to drop by unannounced and they had to be the smallest thing I've ever seen her wear."

Blaise chuckled. "Yeah, I did know that actually."

"Wait, what?" Draco took a step back and furrowed his eyebrows. How in Merlin's name had his best friend seen his boss in her pyjamas? The two of them had actually joked back in eighth year how undesirable Hermione Granger was. Of course, he hadn't really meant what he said at the time. Had Blaise also not meant it? The same confusion and cognitive dissonance he had felt the night before returned in full force.

"Didn't you know? Merlin, I thought I told you." Blaise leaned against the wall, a cocky grin on his face. Normally, Draco found that grin amusing; right now he wasn't so sure. "But then again, she didn't want me to shout about it–"

"What are you talking about, Blaise?" A muscle in Draco's cheek had begun to pulse with impatience.

"Granger and I used to sleep together. I could have sworn I told you about it."

A gentle breeze could have knocked him over. First, he had learned that Granger sold sex toys, and now, less than twelve hours later he had found out that the woman had slept with his best friend?

What was going on with the world today?

"When, uh," Draco fished for words that seemed to stick in his throat. "When did this happen?"

"About four or five years ago, give or take?"

Draco's eyes widened. "Four or five years?" Doing that math, that put the timeline of these trysts… _No. _"You two were shagging during our internship?"

"Well yeah." Blaise shrugged. "She told me she needed stress relief. I happily obliged."

Draco blinked, the rest of his body frozen. His eighteen and twenty year-old selves were both such idiots for not following through and asking her on a date. Apparently, she had actually had some initiative and a sex drive back then. And _she_ had been the one to approach Blaise?

It was unheard of.

There was no way it was true.

"How… erm… how long did you date?"

Blaise laughed again. "We didn't date, man. We just shagged every once in a while. Granger was really cool like that."

Granger, cool? Surely not.

"So what happened? If she is so cool, why aren't you still shagging?" He tried to keep his tone light, though for some reason, his heart was pounding against his ribcage.

Blaise clicked his tongue. "Well, you see, she was just too needy."

"I thought you said you weren't dating."

"We weren't. You misunderstand me. She was too needy _in bed_."

Draco felt his whole face heat up. He struggled to stay neutral, though he suspected he was failing miserably. "How so?" His voice cracked.

"She started getting demanding after a while. It really started to turn me off. So I ended our arrangement and moved on to easier-to-please witches."

Blaise was starting to look bored, and Draco was grateful for a change of subject. The last thing he needed on his mind as he headed into his lesson tonight was the knowledge that Hermione Granger, now his teacher and his boss, was hard to please in bed.

Thankfully, his friend left shortly after he realized there was no persuading Draco to come along to a club. When Blaise finally departed through the Floo, Draco collapsed back onto his bed. He still had so much of his day to go, and he was already exhausted. Perhaps, he could just have a quick nap. That sounded so tempting.

But still, he didn't want to wake up with another hard-on. He would have to find another way to occupy his time. After pondering his options for a bit, Draco settled on an activity that would certainly keep him busy for the next few hours: reading.

When he was a young teenager, Draco had discovered a special shelf in his family library; it had been just high enough that he had to use a ladder to reach it, but oh, did he ever reap the rewards.

It was an entire shelf filled with books on sex.

Draco had nicked several volumes to keep hidden under his mattress. On school holidays, he spent hours on end in his room staring at the illustrations with his hand stuck down his trousers. The memory brought a smirk to his face even now. But thinking about his earliest explorations during puberty was not only nostalgic, it also had the potential to be informative.

When he checked the Malfoy library in the back corner on the shelf that was now just above his eye level, they were still there. There were books on auspicious positions, books on special charms for sex, and even books on sexual, magical bonds. But as Draco scoured the various volumes, flipping through their pages for the few remaining hours before his lesson with Granger, he couldn't find a single reference to sex toys.

Running his hands through his hair, he sighed. As stimulating and interesting as these books were, they were far from what he was looking for. Were these toys even magical in origin? Or were they… were they Muggle? That would certainly explain their conspicuous absence from the library.

Draco drummed his fingers on the table. Granger had better have answers from him. His curiosity had been piqued, and he would be damned if he didn't get a thorough explanation. It had been a few months since his last night with a woman, and if he could walk into his next encounter with a trick up his sleeve, he was willing to sit through an evening of education with Granger of all people to make that happen.

The woman in question had sent him an owl earlier that day to confirm a specific time for him to come over, so at seven o'clock sharp, a very fidgety Draco grabbed a handful of Floo powder and tossed it into his personal grate. It roared to life and he called out the address before being whisked away into the Floo network. As he flew past various fireplaces, he wasn't sure if the swirling of his stomach was coming from the nauseating pace of his travel or from nerves.

Landing in Granger's sitting room, he found himself alone once again. She was nowhere to be seen. Draco stood, dusting himself off, and looked around. He half-expected to see a pile of those so-called sex toys on the coffee table, ready for his perusal. Instead, he found the table to be quite empty.

"Oh, hello Malfoy," Hermione called as she backed into the sitting room. Draco noted with a slight sinking feeling that she was no longer wearing those delightfully revealing pyjamas. Instead, she wore jeans and a soft-looking jumper. But today, her clothes were not what caught her eye. No, he saw the large stack of papers and posters in her arms.

_What in Merlin's name…?_

"Right," Hermione began, setting the posters down. "I thought we'd begin with some basics. I'm not sure what knowledge you actually have, and you probably couldn't tell me anyway. After all, you don't know what you don't know." She held up a poster containing a timeline that was labeled _A History of Female Sexual Liberation_.

Draco groaned internally. He had been hoping for something a bit more…hands-on.

Clearly, his disappointment had shown on his face, because Hermione tapped her foot. Her eyes narrowed, and she folded her arms.

"Sit," she ordered.

Draco lowered himself onto the sofa as if she pushed him; his eyebrow twitched as he realized that his cock had just done the same. Did he… was he _aroused_ by Granger giving him orders?

This would definitely be a thought to revisit later.

While he had gotten into his own head, Hermione began her lecture. Each poster and parchment was filled top to bottom with facts and figures, and Hermione delved into each one with fervor in her voice and passion in her eyes.

Though he enjoyed watching that passion, he found the detailed history lesson about the purposeful repression of female sexuality more than a bit boring. His mind wandered as she spoke; only occasionally did he return his focus to check in and make sure she hadn't began talking about something a bit more interesting and relevant.

On his third time doing a mental re-focusing, an odd sentence floated into his ears.

"…and that's why it's not really surprising that around eighty percent of women have faked orgasms when they are with their partners."

Draco's head snapped up, his mind clearing up instantly. "Eighty percent?" His voice cracked.

Hermione blinked, pausing for a moment. "…yes. Most women have faked orgasms at some point."

Draco blanched. "But why would they do that?"

Hermione shook her head, holding back a chuckle. "You haven't been listening, have you?"

He felt himself blush as he stammered, "Well… erm…"

Hermione pursed her lips, one eyebrow quirked. "It's a bit much, isn't it? All this." She gestured to her massive pile of presentation materials. Shaking her head, she set down the poster she was holding. "Sorry. I must have gotten a little over-zealous when you wanted to learn. You're only the second man I've ever taught."

Draco momentarily wondered who the first had been.

Hermione crossed her legs and leaned forward on the sofa toward him. Licking her lips, she spoke again. "You seemed particularly interested in that last statistic. Any particular reason why?"

Draco opened and closed his mouth several times rather like a fish. Of course he knew exactly why he was interested in that statistic. Eighty percent of women faked it? Thinking back to that same list of women he had mentally conjured this morning, he tried to remember the exact faces they had made – their mewling and keening and screaming. He had been so proud, convinced that they had been genuine.

But now, looking back, perhaps some of their noises had been exaggerated. Doubt began to creep into his memories, turning them sour.

But how was he supposed to express this to Hermione Granger, his actual boss, without feeling utterly embarrassed?

It seemed that once again, she could read him like a book. She reached forward and placed a hand on his knee, patting it. Though he could have interpreted the gesture as patronizing, it seemed surprisingly genuine.

"It's all right, you know. That's why you're here tonight. To learn. And that takes courage. I'm proud of you for even being here, Malfoy."

Draco paused. He was sure his cheeks were aflame at this point, but his insides weren't squirming with embarrassment. Instead, he actually felt compelled to talk to her; that was, if his tongue decided to work again. Granger had a strange talent for this: making people feel comfortable, despite their flaws.

He supposed that might have been why he was actually tempted to ask her out in the past.

Still, hearing her encourage him to be open about his sex life had to be one of the oddest things he had ever experienced. Was Granger actually praising him for admitting that he wasn't sure if he was good in bed? No matter how comfortable she made him, that thought alone made him want to melt into the sofa.

Also, her hand on his knee was doing really unfortunate things to his groin.

The silence between them began to grow stale, and that was when she moved her hand and reached behind the sofa. Pulling something up, she revealed a box that had been hidden from view.

"It's no matter, really. We can come back to that." Hermione spoke quickly. "Let's skip ahead a bit, shall we? I think this might be more of what you were imagining when you signed up to talk to me." Hermione set the box down in front of them and he peered inside.

Draco gulped. What he found was more overwhelming than expected. There wasn't just that long, blue wand-like thing, but a number of other colourful objects that seemed to come in all sorts of shapes and textures.

He felt the blood drain from his face when he spotted a large, dark object that looked exactly like penis. Was he expected to do something with _that_? Did people actually like that sort of thing?

He was definitely in over his head. Perhaps he should have just stayed home.

"Right," Hermione said, fishing out that blue piece. "Here you go." She unceremoniously deposited it in his left hand.

Draco flicked his eyes between Hermione's face and his hand. This…thing was bigger than he thought. And heavier. And so, so blue.

"That one's called the _Pixie_. It's pretty straightforward and good for any level of experience."

Draco blinked. These things had names? And experience levels? Circe help him.

"This red one," Hermione said, pulling out a double-pronged item, "is known as _Lioness_. It's the most popular item for my _non-attached_ customers."

Draco's mind briefly flashed back to that conversation he had overheard between interns at the Ministry canteen months ago. The only word he could recall specifically overhearing at the time was 'lioness.'

It was all making sense now.

Hermione pointed out a handful of other names, including a shiny ring called _Niffler_ and a U-shaped device called _Kama_ that was apparently for couples. When she got to the scary-looking enormous black penis, she hauled it out of the box like all the other items. Though he thought he had adjusted to the idea of Hermione Granger talking about sex, nothing quite prepared him for the sight of her with a large, fake cock in her hands. He had almost choked on his own spit as she held it out for him to inspect.

"And this one is a _Dragon_."

He definitely needed a drink of water or something.

Draco examined a Pixie, the blue one, again and turned it over in his hand. Compared to the Dragon, this actually seemed semi-approachable. "So… erm… what does it do exactly?" He thought back to the way it buzzed in Hermione's hand yesterday.

"It vibrates. Women or… whomever, really, can use it to bring themselves or their partners to orgasm." Hermione tapped the object with her wand, and it began to buzz in his hand. Draco felt the tingle resonate all the way up his arm. He shivered as he imagined placing this between a woman's thighs. But still… he felt an odd twist in his stomach about the whole thing.

"It's quite powerful, certainly," he said, continuing to turn the object in his hand. "But wouldn't a man feel inadequate using one of these things? I mean, this is something I couldn't compete with."

Hermione laughed. "You really are insecure, aren't you?" Draco scowled at her. "You're not meant to compete with a vibrator. Fingers and mouths are perfectly lovely and can definitely do the trick for some people. But some people don't have or want a partner. And some people – particularly women – who have partners need a little extra help. It's all normal – all of it."

Draco nodded along to show he was listening as he touched the vibrator to his opposite palm. It really was quite strong, wasn't it?

"And there are so many women out there who need that extra help but either don't know about sex toys or who actually believe that sex isn't mean to be pleasurable for them." Hermione continued to speak in a didactic tone, the words spilling out of her faster and faster. "They're told that they have to just lie back and think of England while it's happening, and to not be disappointed when it only feels good for the man."

Draco furrowed his brow. "That's ridiculous. If it feels bloody good for me, it should feel the same for her."

Hermione smiled appreciatively. "Exactly. Which is why my business is so necessary. When I did some digging a couple years back, I found that there was no market for sex toys in Wizarding Britain. When I mentioned them to some friends, no one had heard of them."

"Well I certainly hadn't. I even… erm… tried to do some research this morning. In the family library, and there wasn't anything." Draco shrugged.

He watched as his boss raised her eyebrows. "You looked up sex toys in the Malfoy library? What kinds of books are in that collection?"

Draco snorted. "Informative ones. But apparently, not informative enough." He cleared his throat. "So, surely witches have been… witches know how to orgasm, right? I mean… it can't just be a Muggle thing, can it?"

"Oh yes," Hermione reached across the sofa to retrieve her wand. "Witches are normal women and can orgasm just the same. And they definitely use tools to help them. In fact, they have for centuries as far as I know." She indicated the long piece of wood in her hand. Draco's gaze flicked between Hermione and the wand as his brain scrambled to make the connection. Tools? What tools? Wait, why was–

Hermione adjusted the wand until it was in a normal grip and spoke, _"Pulso."_

Draco watched with wide eyes as her vinewood wand began to buzz, creating tremors up her hand.

Slightly slack-jawed, he scrambled to find the right words – any words at all. Every single wand he had ever seen a woman hold suddenly became simultaneously dangerous and tantalizing. How many girls at Hogwarts knew that spell? How many women he knew now could perform it? Did women actually walk around all day with objects they could potentially use to get themselves off? Just the thought was enough to make him both semi-hard and utterly overwhelmed.

Had swotty Hermione Granger ever done that? Had she done that back at Hogwarts? If he she had, and he had known… there was no way he would have traded Granger for Pansy.

"Are you serious? Witches actually–?"

Hermione chuckled. "As a bludger to the head."

"So you're saying that some witches use the same wand that helps them do transfiguration and charms and defense to… to…?"

"To masturbate? Yes. And it's an awful habit, if I do say so myself." Draco coughed. "The wand part, I mean. Terribly unsanitary.

"There is a witch with whom we are both familiar – _and she shall remain anonymous," _Hermione emphasized these last few words, much to Draco's dismay, "–who ended up making a rather unfortunate mistake while masturbating with her wand and transfigured her genitals into a functioning French Horn. For some reason, I was the first one she called for help. It wasn't pretty. Every time she tried to move her legs, the horn would start to play _God Save the Queen_. Poor woman had to spend two weeks in St. Mungo's and she's still rather jumpy around brass instruments."

Draco couldn't decide if he found the story funny or utterly revolting.

"So is that why you sell these?" Draco held up the blue vibrator in his hand. "Because they're less likely to cause accidents?"

"Among other reasons. They are easily washed and only serve this one purpose, so It's far more sanitary in general."

Draco set the vibrator back in the box and sifted around its contents for a moment, though he avoided touching the _Dragon_ model. The various items seemed to come in all sorts of shapes, sizes, and colours — even more than the small selection Hermione had highlighted. The more he looked, the more questions seemed to pop up in his head. He looked up at her. "Are all these things vibrators? Or are they all different?"

She smiled. "There's some variety there. I brought out different ones in case you were curious. Most of these items vibrate – the focus of my business is on female pleasure, and that's generally how women are stimulated. Though not all of these items stimulate the same place."

Draco blinked. He knew that women had a little nub they liked to have rubbed a bit, but he hadn't heard of anything else. He gulped, feeling smaller and thicker than he ever had before. Granger was going to belittle him over this, he just knew it. Blinking, he chose his words carefully. "There… are different places?"

Gods, he was the king of idiots.

He held her gaze for a few moments, waiting for the other shoe to drop. But to his surprise, she didn't belittle him. She didn't scoff, laugh, or even smirk. Instead, she shot him a genuine-looking smile before flipping through her massive pile of posters until she whispered a small, _"Aha!"_

From the middle of the stack, she pulled out an incredibly detailed drawing of female bits from various perspectives. This drawing was far better than anything the Malfoy library had to offer – all ink drawings of wizards thrusting into wanton witches inside alchemic circles. No, this – this was brilliant.

"Have you never seen something like this before?" Hermione asked. "An anatomy drawing?"

Draco shook his head as he leaned closer. "Any discussion about anatomy in my family was strictly to learn about how to produce an heir. Any other details, no matter how important, seem to have been conveniently left out." Draco studied the intricate poster; he had seen a handful of women down there, yes, but he had always been so in-the-moment that he never actually bothered to take a proper look. Taking in this drawing now, it was clear to him that women's bits were nothing short of complicated.

"No wonder women don't expect to get off. There's too much going down there for blokes to know where to start."

"Well," began Hermione, "with the proper instruction, they would. And that's why I started this business, actually. I want women to be able to know what they like so they either just have fun happily by themselves or actually tell a partner what they like and how to help them get there."

Draco looked up from where he had been staring at what he thought was that little nub. Immediately, his conversation with Blaise from earlier came flooding back to him. He had claimed that Hermione had been _needy_ in bed. Was that what he had meant? Draco wanted an explanation, but there was no way he was going to ask her specifics about her sex life. Instead, he chose a slightly different approach.

"I get the sense that you're speaking from experience, Granger." He let a hint of his drawl escape as he spoke.

She flushed. "Well… I…" Hermione stammered a bit, setting the diagram down. "Well, yes, actually. I've been with a handful of partners, and none of them could help me. And then finally with my most recent boyfriend I just got tired of faking it." She shrugged and picked up the same blue toy. "So I did what I do best: research. I looked into Muggle methods of stimulation and modified them so they ran on magic rather than electricity."

Draco picked up the blue Pixie vibrator. He tapped it with his wand and muttered the same spell Granger had used earlier: _"Pulso."_

It began to buzz at a low frequency. He looked up at Hermione, a grin on his face. "Brilliant. So what happened to you and this boyfriend of yours?"

She pressed her hands into her knees, a far-off look in her eyes. After a moment, she seemed to come to. "The sex was great after we started using the vibrator together. But unfortunately–" Hermione said with a sigh, "–the relationship was doomed to fail."

"I'm sorry," Draco mumbled. He could definitely relate. Sleeping with Astoria had practically been the pinnacle of his life thus far, but when it came down to it, they simply weren't compatible in other ways.

And it was only now that he realized that Astoria might not have even viewed their sex as good.

If he had had this conversation with Granger years ago, he might have thought she was out to squash his ego. Hell, this was likely the most embarrassing conversation that either of them had had in a long while.

"Don't be sorry." Hermione waved him off. "I'm quite glad it didn't work out. He was an arse. Besides, it was because of our breakup that I started my business."

Draco tilted his head. "Care to explain?"

"Well," she began. "I had a girl's night shortly after it happened and we all got rather sloshed. I ended up convincing my friends to try out copies of the magical vibrator I had made for myself. They all Flooed me back the next morning telling me that I ought to mass produce them. As a low-level manager at the DIMC who could hardly rub two sickles together, it was an… alluring opportunity. I began the business in my spare bedroom and haven't looked back since."

Draco nodded along. He remembered their earliest days together as boss and employee quite clearly. The two of them had sat at neighboring desks and everything. To think that she had been spending all her spare time inventing sex toys and selling them? It was almost unbelievable.

If nothing else, it proved once and for all that he definitely didn't know Hermione Granger well.

"Colour me impressed, Granger," he said as he nodded, eyebrows raised and lips turned down slightly. "You've got a keen business sense. Next time you decide to start something up, let me know. I've got a feeling that whatever you touch will turn to gold, and I'd be interested in investing."

Granger blushed at his words, but she looked proud of herself. A bit smug, even.

"Coming from you, Malfoy, I'll take that as a compliment in the highest."

Draco grinned. "So I know what this vibrator thing does. And I know why you made it. But how exactly does one use it?" He tried to be smooth as he asked, but knew he might be treading on dangerous territory. If it was him describing how to get a bloke off, he would only be able to speak from _personal experience_. He held in a shudder. "I mean, do you just touch it… there?"

It was Hermione's turn to raise her eyebrows. "Well," she began, retrieving the anatomy diagram once more. "There are two main areas of stimulation: the clitoris–" She indicated the nub, "–and the g-spot." She pointed to a cross-section diagram. "The blue vibrator in your hand can stimulate both, but not at the same time."

Draco paused. "So there's a spot inside? Wouldn't that mean that you…?" he looked down at the vibrator, his mind racing.

"It means you can insert it, yes."

Draco felt his mind turn to goo. He prayed that Granger didn't know Legillimancy, because the images flying through his brain were nothing short of salacious. And not only were they filthy, but the star of his newly-conjured fantasy had bushy, brown hair.

He mentally shook himself. This was not the time or the place. Not only that, but there was no way that this particular fantasy could be a reality. She was his boss, and by the sound of it, she had way more experience than he did.

But still… that didn't mean he could learn a thing or two from her… about her…

"Oh, Malfoy!" Hermione squeaked, sitting up straight. Her eyes were suddenly bright as she shook a single finger at him. "Before I forget — and I meant to ask earlier — did you send in the final documentation for the Centaur Bill?"

Draco blinked. Had he missed something? "The what?"

"The Centaur Bill. For the project I've been working on for months that's up for a vote next weekend. That Centaur Bill. Did you send in the final documentation?" She spoke as though this were the obvious topic of conversation and that his ears weren't working properly.

_What? Where had that come from? Hadn't they just been talking about penetrative sex toys? _

Draco wasn't sure he would ever understand how his boss's mind worked.

It took a minute, but once her words washed over him and properly absorbed, his brain and mouth seemed to connect once more.

"Yes. Erm, yeah. I sent it all in. Friday."

"Good." Hermione nodded and cleared her throat. "So, did you have any questions so far?"

Draco opened and shut his mouth. He hesitated. "...about what?"

"About vibrators or anatomy or anything we've talked about so far."

He swore, Hermione Granger was going to give him whiplash one of these days. Instead of commenting, though, he decided to push on with the… lesson.

"So, erm…" He leaned closer to stare at the diagrams. "How would you make a witch feel good with the vibrator? Just touch it to the clitoris or the g-spot?" He stared at the picture and tried to remember what the real women had looked like down there. But all that he could really remember was them feeling wet.

Hermione licked her lips and pointed to the clitoris. "You might not want to just touch the vibrator directly. Not at first, anyway. Some women are really sensitive right there. They might prefer you to touch the area directly around it."

Her words were coming out fast again; out of the corner of his eye, he saw her leg start to bounce and her hands begin fidgeting. Was she nervous?

Perhaps… just perhaps… It was a long shot, but maybe those nerves meant something unexpected.

He could make this work to his advantage. As much as he felt like an idiot, he was still Draco Malfoy, and Draco Malfoy knew a thing or two about seducing a witch.

He reached out to the poster, dragging his fingers slowly over the clitoris in the diagram. Blinking once, he turned to Hermione, leaving his hand on the poster.

"Such a tiny little thing," he mused. "Amazing how it can make a witch feel so good."

He watched as Hermione swallowed. The confidence she had displayed all throughout her explanations seemed to be faltering just a bit as she stammered, "I–I thought you didn't know from experience. Isn't this why we're here in the first place?"

Though his heart hammered in his chest, Draco made sure to keep his voice steady. "I don't. Which is why I am utterly fascinated." He switched his gaze back to the poster. "So if I were to just hold this here–" He held the vibrator up to the diagram, "–then she would feel good?"

To his utter delight, he watched as Hermione shifted on the sofa. It was almost as if she were imagining…

But surely not. There was no way.

Draco Malfoy may not have been familiar intimately with the female orgasm, but he sure as hell knew when a woman was attracted to him.

Hermione nodded. "I suppose she would. Feel good, that is."

He raised an eyebrow. "You suppose? Are you not sure?"

"Well, it's like I said." Hermione cleared her throat and straightened up. "It depends on the woman."

Draco took a deep breath and looked his boss right in the eyes. "And what about you, Granger? Would that feel good to you?"

Hermione did nothing but blink for a few moments; the rest of her seemed to be immobilized. Likely by shock. Her jaw hung open and she continued to rub her thighs together.

He gave the smallest of smirks.

"I… just…well–" Hermione stuttered as she tried to formulate a response. But it seemed every time she wanted to speak, the words got stuck in her throat. No doubt she was raging an internal battle about whether to give in to her attraction.

_Come on, Granger._

When she continued her silence, Draco internally congratulated himself. He had officially made the infamous Hermione Granger speechless.

But that wasn't enough. It wasn't entirely what he wanted.

So he tried again.

"I asked, _Granger_, if you would feel good if I pressed this vibrator right into you."

His eyes bored into hers and he felt himself harden as Hermione squirmed under his gaze.

In his dreams, she was going to say yes. She was going to let him bring her to climax with this vibrator. The idea of her moaning beneath him was enough continue to harden his length.

Though Draco hoped that this fantasy could be a reality, he knew that in all likelihood, she would shut him down and end the lesson right then and there with a lecture about proper protocol between colleagues. This would all have been a strange little interlude in their lives and they would never speak of it again. Yes, that was certainly the likely outcome.

But when he looked into her eyes, he saw the uncertainty there turn to pure fire. The dilation of her pupils was enough to make the nervous pounding in his chest stutter to a stop.

"Well, Malfoy," she began, reaching over and plucking the toy from his hand. "As eager as you are to test out my invention, wouldn't it be better to learn from the inventor, herself?"

_Merlin, did she mean…? _His heart stopped completely as her words washed over him.

"After all, you came here for a lesson, did you not? And what sort of teacher would I be if I didn't give you a proper demonstration?"

And then, Salazar help him, she unbuttoned her jeans.

It was almost an out-of-body experience, watching Hermione Granger undress in front of him. She carefully stepped out of her trousers, revealing black lace knickers; Draco wasn't sure how a simple pair of knickers could make him feel weak-kneed at his age, but he couldn't deny the dryness in his throat as he watched her settle back onto the sofa.

Draco kept his eyes glued to her, afraid to blink. If he did, perhaps he would find out that this was just another fantasy and she was still lecturing him on female sexual empowerment.

But as he watched Hermione remove those damn knickers and spread her legs, he realized that it might just be a combination of both.

She looked at him through hooded eyelids. When she spoke, her voice was direct and commanding, though it was nothing like how she spoke to him as his boss. It made his hair stand on end.

"Tonight, you may only look. You are not to touch, Malfoy. Do you understand?"

He nodded, and he allowed his eyes to wander to the apex of her thighs.

There, nestled beneath a small patch of dark curls, was Hermione Granger's pussy. Having never bothered to closely examine a real one up close before, he knelt down and studied it. Any other man might have dived in and worshipped her, but not him. Draco took in all the folds and creases; he silently identified her clitoris. And, with a swelling of satisfaction, he observed that she was already wet.

Surely, if anyone would appreciate his close study, it would be the eternal bookworm, herself.

"You are nothing short of exquisite, Miss Granger," he breathed, reaching a hand forward. She grinned, but swatted it away.

"Ah ah. What did I just say? Besides, didn't you want to see me use this?" She dangled the vibrator in front of him, and he felt himself nod.

Hermione twisted her abdomen to the side and retrieved her wand once again. She pointed it at the blue vibrator and whispered, _"Pulso."_

The object began buzzing immediately.

"Now, Malfoy. Pay close attention."

He didn't have to be told twice.

Hermione took the vibrator and placed in her folds. "See how I'm not touching my clit? But I'm applying a decent amount of pressure." Even as she spoke, her breathing began to deepen. "If I touch it directly, it's too much too soon. I need to warm up first."

Draco watched as she continued to press the vibrator in slightly different positions, each time bringing herself to a bigger and bigger frenzy. He saw her cheeks flush and her chest heave; he found his own breathing matching in tandem with hers. Just watching was electrifying.

He couldn't decide what he liked to watch better: her glistening, pulsating pussy, or her gorgeous, sinfully delicious facial expression.

Hermione built herself up until she began to lift her hips off the sofa in a steady rhythm, and Draco felt his mouth go dry. This was it.

But then, she did an odd thing She removed the vibrator it entirely, holding it a few inches from herself. The little device buzzed in the air.

"Why did you take it off?" he asked, disappointment lacing his voice as she removed the vibrator for the second time. "I thought it took a lot of work for women to finish?"

Hermione showed off her dazzling smile as she panted, and for some strange reason, Draco felt a twinge – not in his cock, but in his heart.

"It's called edging. I bring myself really close, but then pull back. It's a technique that helps make an orgasm stronger."

"You mean… you didn't? Not yet?"

Hermione shot him a wicked grin. Forget twinging. His cock was practically jumping.

"I'm afraid not. Would you like to see me finish?"

Draco swallowed and said the only two words his brain could formulate. "Yes please."

She chuckled. "Well, since you asked so nicely."

Hermione touched the vibrator to herself again. The moment it touched her folds, she gave a loud moan, throwing her head back in obvious ecstacy.

If he hadn't been hard before, he was painfully so now.

He watched as she dipped the vibrator into her slick channel, keeping it angled so that it still stimulated her clit. As she thrust into herself with more pressure each time, her moans grew louder and more wanton.

Draco Malfoy had seen many things in his twenty-five years, but this was something new.

Women had screamed for him before. He had heard them – seen their faces. At the time, he had nothing to really compare it to, so he assumed that women all sounded like banshees when they came.

But right now, watching Hermione Granger fuck herself with that little toy, he knew immediately that they had all been faking it. Even Astoria. There was no way that the tinny sounds those women had made compared in the slightest to the guttural, rich noises coming from Hermione's throat.

The odd thing was, he didn't care about those other witches. Not anymore.

As Hermione had told him, he was there to learn.

And learn, he certainly did.

For the very first time in his life, Draco watched a woman orgasm, and it was nothing short of a religious experience. Hermione's entire body tensed as her mouth opened, her eyes clamped shut. His eyes flew to her slit, and he watched as it clenched and unclenched around the toy.

For the briefest moment, he imagined what it would feel like if it were his own cock being squeezed by her quim instead of some object. Without thinking too much about it, he began to rub himself over his trousers in search of some relief.

Hermione, it seemed, was coming down from her high. The pace of her breathing had slowed and her eyes were slowly re-focusing. After removing the toy and casting a slightly-breathless _Scourgify_ on it, she set it down beside her.

Her eyes flicked to him – first to his face, and then down, to where he was fondling himself.

He should have felt embarrassed. He should have felt self-conscious.

Instead, all he could feel was the immense need to have her hands on him.

"Did you learn anything, _Mr. Malfoy?_" she asked, leaning toward him, her legs still spread wide open.

Draco's brain was misfiring. He couldn't remember how to form words, it seemed. Instead, he let out an odd sort of choking noise when Hermione reached out, moved his own hand out of the way, and palmed him over his trousers.

All rational thought left his mind as she unzipped his fly and pulled his member out. Her hand felt so good on him that he almost forgot to breathe.

He came after four strokes.

With an odd sort of numbness, Draco watched as Hermione performed the cleaning charm on his cock before tucking him back into his trousers. This had to be the best night of his life. Hands down.

Hermione reached for her knickers and trousers and climbed back into them as he continued to bask. When she sat back down on the sofa, fully dressed, he looked up at her face. Her cheeks had turned scarlet. The two colleagues stared at each other for several long, unending moments. It seemed neither of them dared to speak first.

But Granger was a Gryffindor for a reason. She cleared her throat.

"So, erm… there you have it. The female orgasm and an introduction to sex toys. You'll forgive me if it was a raw lesson. Like I said, you're only my second male client. And this lesson was far more, erm, _hands on_."

Draco licked his lips. "It was very edifying." He felt his own face heat up.

With the smallest of smiles, Hermione tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "Good. I'm glad. That's… why I started this business. To be educational."

An extended silence stretched between them, filling the space that had just been filed with panting and moaning and buzzing. Though the sounds had disappeared entirely, the smell of sex lingered, intoxicating him into a continued stupor.

"Well, mission accomplished, then," Draco said lightly.

Neither of them seemed to want to move.

And then–

A sharp knock at the front door broke the odd spell between them.

"Oi, Hermione! Let me in, will you? Harry's driving me up the wall and I need to cool off a bit."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Ginny," she whispered. "You should go. Take the Floo home. I'll see you Monday, all right?"

Draco opened his mouth to say something, but Hermione had already jumped to her feet, bustling around the room. She was casting air freshening charms and picking up her lesson materials, her back turned to him.

She didn't even say goodbye as he disappeared into the Floo.

* * *

**Just one more chapter to go on this sweet little fic! **

**Draco has certainly been educated. *waggles eyebrows into the sunset***

**Please leave me a little review to let me know what you thought and follow me on tumblr at biscuitsforpotter for fun times! **


	3. Chapter 3

**We've arrived at the final installment of this short, delightfully smutty piece. **

**Thanks as always to the incomparable GracefulLioness! **

* * *

For two reasons, the following work week at the Department of International Magical Cooperation was nothing short of a living hell.

First, the biggest event of the year was fast approaching; travel to Croatia for the upcoming weekend had been arranged for the group of representatives, and the whole department was in a massive frenzy trying to make last-minute preparations. Draco and Hermione had stayed until well-past midnight every single day in an attempt to find some semblance of order amongst the chaos. Now entirely sleep-deprived and overworked, Draco was the perfect picture of frazzled. He had bags under his eyes, his hair and clothes were rumpled, and his temper was the shortest it had ever been. Hermione had actually told him off for snapping at an intern until she cried when she didn't alphabetize a stack of documents properly.

It wasn't exactly the state he had hoped to be in before the summit in Croatia.

The second reason was far more personal. Despite the fact that he had been working with Hermione Granger for years — and despite the fact that she was now his boss, working beside her had suddenly become tortuous.

Granted, her presence was the sweet kind of torture. But it was also entirely inappropriate.

Yes, the Office of International Magical Cooperation had become a sort of place of torment for him ever since her very educational, very straight-laced lesson on sex toys had turned into a wanton display of female pleasure that had ended in an absolutely brilliant handjob.

Before that eye-opening experience, Draco wouldn't have thought twice about the occasional brush of the hand as they sat side-by-side in a meeting or the sway of her hips as she walked away from his desk. Such small touches had happened occasionally through the years, but they had always seemed like nothing more than mindless incidents. In fact, he had purposely — perhaps even subconsciously — told himself to ignore them.

But now? Knowing what he knew, every movement seemed to drive him to distraction; every touch cued his arousal like clockwork.

He was completely hooked. Even the effects of Firewhisky felt miniscule compared to the hangover he was still experiencing from watching her come apart. By the time the week drew to a close, Draco found that being in her presence for hours on end had sent enough little shocks through his veins that he now felt exposed and raw. A single look from her was now enough to make his palms sweaty and his mouth dry.

And when she scolded him for losing his temper at that intern? He had to excuse himself to the bathroom immediately after to take care of the growing problem in his trousers.

Draco didn't exactly mind the extra wanking. Under normal circumstances, that level of masturbation would leave him feeling incredibly relaxed and might even give him a bit of swagger. But these weren't normal circumstances, and the woman who was driving him wild was his boss.

Hermione acted entirely professional through each touch: not even a hint of a shiver or a blush. Her side of their interactions seemed limited to curt nods, direct speech, and a lukewarm demeanor overall. There was no bickering, no energetic back and forth. It was as though she had cast a semi-permanent _Protego_ around herself, making her nearly impossible to read. Any time he had even attempted to crack her shield, the only thing he achieved was a confused look on her part and a slightly bruised ego on his.

She had told him that she liked to keep her two jobs separate, but even this amount of hyper-normality between them felt off. Was she even shutting him out on purpose, or was she unaware of the walls she had built? Based on both her reaction and what he knew about her, he was forced to come to the conclusion that Hermione Granger simply didn't let people in.

She slept with Blaise, but they hadn't dated. It had only been for _stress relief._

More recently, she had dated someone and had great sex with him, but apparently their relationship had been doomed.

She had worked side-by-side with him as Head Girl, as his co-intern, and then as his boss for the past seven years. Despite all that time and proximity, he still hardly knew anything real about her.

That was, until last Saturday night.

That night, for the very first time, a fracture in Hermione's shield had appeared, and it had grown deep and wide. Despite her professional intentions, she had exposed herself to him in more ways than one; in that short amount of time, she had proved herself capable of being more vulnerable than he had ever imagined her.

Yet, for all of her vulnerability, she had also had an air of confidence about her that night. It seemed to radiate from her, really. There was no way that Hermione could design and sell sex toys without that confidence. Hell, there was no way that she would demonstrate one on herself in front of her childhood bully without it.

"Malfoy, can you please pack up these completed rolls?" Hermione called from her desk as she tucked her chin under a mountain of rolled-up documents. Draco surged forward from his own desk to take the parchment into his arms. Though it wobbled, the stack seemed to be safe and stable in his clutches. As the documents were transferred between their arms, Hermione's fingers brushed against his own. For the hundredth time this week, he felt his skin prickle where they had made contact; his heart sped up just a bit and he felt himself start to sweat. Though he should have been used to the sensation at this point, he felt rubbed raw from near-constant overstimulation instead.

_Salazar's Rod,_ was this going to happen every time he got near to his boss now? Was he doomed to a life of discomfort at work indefinitely? The thought made him shudder as he tucked the rolls of parchment into the department's extension-charmed travel briefcase.

"Anything else to pack up, Grang—?"

Draco paused as he looked up. Was that… was that a pink tinge on her cheeks?

Had she felt her own skin prickle as well?

It seemed she had spotted his gaze, because she quickly turned away, her hair flying over her shoulder. "No, Malfoy. I think we're done here. Everything is packed and ready for our Portkey tomorrow morning."

Draco chuckled. "I think you'll find it's tomorrow already."

He watched as his boss's eyes flew to the clock on the wall, the gears turning in her head.

"It's almost two in the morning? Why didn't you say something, Malfoy? We have to be at the top of our game bright and early." He could see a slight panic setting in by the way her breathing sped up and the way her eyes grew manic.

"Calm down, Granger. You can Floo directly home from here and go right to bed. A pixie could knock you over at this rate."

There was a short beat as Hermione gave him a funny look, her head cocked to the side, her eyes wide. It was less confusion and more… alarm?

Why would she be concerned? Was it because—? Oh.

_Pixie_ had been the model of vibrator she had used on herself the week before. Draco plucked the memory from his brain of that small, blue device bringing her to a climax — the way she squirmed and the way she moaned...

He felt his cock twitch. Shite. This wasn't the time. His eyes flicked to hers.

_Fuck_. What did she think he had meant? Did she honestly think he had referenced the vibrator at a time like this, when they were both clearly overtired?

He backtracked.

"I didn't mean— What I meant to say is that—" Draco stammered, trying to find the right words. He groaned as he felt a blush climb up his own cheeks. "What I mean to say is that you look tired, Granger. It shouldn't take you long to fall asleep."

Looking up, he saw her mouth turned upward into a soft smile from behind her somehow-limp curls.

"Thanks… Draco."

It wasn't until she had officially left the room and he heard her heels click down the hallway toward the lift that he realized she had called him by his given name.

* * *

The next morning dawned far too soon, and Draco forced himself to crawl out of bed when his wand alarm buzzed. The last few days, he had wracked his brain trying to think of another way to wake up. As delightful as it was to picture all the naughty things women did to themselves, it was a bit much to wake up to every single morning. Perhaps he could ask Granger what she used for an alarm.

Stumbling about, he felt as though he was floating as he dressed in his formal work robes; his eyes drooped and his mind stalled with each little decision he had to make.

What came after brushing his teeth? Where had he put his packed bag?

Fog still clogged Draco's brain as he arrived to a nearly-deserted Ministry atrium thirty minutes later; his feet carried him automatically toward his destination. He couldn't really remember the lift ride that took him there.

Trudging through the door at the Department of International Magical Cooperation, Draco slumped into his chair, his bag dropping to the floor with a _thud_. The other members of the small delegation traveling to Croatia hadn't arrived yet. Perhaps he had time to close his eyes for just a moment…

"Oh, Good morning, Malfoy," a chipper voice called from the office door.

Granger.

_Was it back to surnames, then?_ He groaned, running his hands down his face.

Draco mused that she must have already had copious amounts of coffee this morning, because there was otherwise no explanation for her high energy level. Blinking, he rubbed his eyes and stood.

"Morning, Granger," he said with a yawn. Stretching, he plodded over to her, where she sorted papers. When he drew nearer, paused. "What in Merlin's name are you wearing?"

He had expected to see her in her usual cardigan sweaters buttoned to the neck or dark trousers — her usual work attire.

Instead, she wore a form-fitting dress in dark purple with a surprisingly deep neckline.

Hermione straightened. "Well, if you must know, I have a number of social events to attend upon arrival. This summit is just as much about forging bonds with other governments as it is about the actual political debates. There is going to be a fair amount of wining and dining this weekend, so I decided to dress for the occasion."

"Wining and dining at seven in the morning?" Draco blanched.

"That's what my provided itinerary said. Check yours."

Provided itinerary? When had she had time to read that? Grumbling, Draco traipsed back over to his desk and fished one of many pieces of folded parchment from his bag. Skimming the itinerary he saw that was scheduled to accompany Hermione to a series of social gatherings for most of today; the diplomatic parts of the weekend weren't scheduled to begin for another twenty-four hours. Draco grimaced. Though he had been raised to be comfortable in high society, post-war social functions made him nervous. He never quite knew how people would react to him, and interacting with others without the safety net of a professional environment posed risks that made his lungs contract.

But Hermione didn't need to know that. He coughed, hoping she didn't notice his discomfort. "You were right. Thank Merlin I wore formal robes."

"You don't look terribly excited about it," she suggested

"Yes, well I've spent more than enough time in my life sucking up to government officials. It's not exactly my favorite pastime."

Hermione patted him on the shoulder. "You'll be fine. Just follow me around and do exactly as I say." In the greatest display of emotion she had shown all week, she smirked and sent a wink his way.

Draco felt his groin stir.

As the rest of the team began to filter into the department office, he forced himself to think of the story Granger had told him last week about the woman with a French Horn for bits.

Within two minutes, all traces of arousal had disappeared from is body.

* * *

It turned out that following his boss around for most of the day was riveting. After dropping off their luggage with the bellhop at a gorgeous hotel, they had made their way to a large conference hall at the Croatian Ministry of Magic. From the moment they stepped into the crowd of diplomats and politicians, Draco watched as his boss commanded the room. Though it was his first instinct to step into the shadows and simply observe from the sidelines, he stood by her side as she swept from person to person, always able to make small talk, and always able to be the one to steer the direction of the conversation.

Draco had always known that Hermione had a way with people; she could relate to others and form bonds in a way that he could never quite grasp. Watching her work a room like this was nothing short of spellbinding. As her assistant, he simply followed two steps behind, ready to provide support as-needed.

Frankly, she seemed to be doing fine on her own. She chatted with members of the French ministry with ease; the Austrian delegation seemed utterly charmed by the time she walked away. Hermione hadn't said a single word to Draco until they stepped near an older gentleman with a bald head as shiny as a crystal ball.

"Malfoy, let me take your arm," she muttered as they drew close, her lips ghosting over his ear.

He shivered at the touch, but obeyed.

"Why?" he shot back as he held his elbow out.

"That's the Italian Minister of Magic. He is the one who will have the most pull with my Centaur Bill," she hissed as they drew closer. "Every time I talk to him, he tries to set me up with one of his sons. If he asks, you're my fiance. Understood? Just play along."

Draco hardly had time to shoot her a disbelieving look out of the corner of his eye before her demeanor immediately changed.

"Minister, _buongiorno!_" she practically cooed, a sickly-sweet grin plastered on her face.

The older gentleman turned out to be almost insatiably talkative. Though Hermione had clearly controlled all conversations up until this point, it seemed she was relinquishing a bit of that control for this particular conversation. She had almost turned on a completely different personality in order to stroke the ego of this powerful man.

As he droned on and on about something concerning the regulation of Portkeys, Draco felt his mind wander back to those sweet memories he probably shouldn't dwell on in a place as public or critical as this. When he thought back to all the times this past week that he had been most turned on, it had been when Hermione had ordered him about or told him off. Nearly every time that happened, it had given him a hard-on.

To Draco, that was definitely the most confusing part of this whole thing. It had bothered him for _years_ that Hermione Granger became his boss. He had never been a man who liked being told what to do.

He did not like taking orders from anyone. That was something of which he had been so certain. But this new development… it was surprising to say the least. And it wasn't as though this had happened slowly, gradually. No. It had been suddenly, and all at once.

It was as though the very impulses he had been trying to keep caged were breaking free and seeking new life. Or, perhaps they were seeking revenge from being bottled up for so long. That would likely explain the movement in his trousers whenever Granger now bossed him around.

Perhaps, that's what had been his attraction to her all along — why he had felt strangely compelled to ask her out twice in the past. Perhaps there had always been a part of him that wanted to be bossed around by her. Draco shook himself mentally. He could return to that thought later.

His eyes came into focus once more, and he forced himself back into the present.

"—and it seems the German Minister is finally being cooperative in regards to the new regulations surrounding international Portkeys—"

Draco groaned internally. How Hermione could sit and listen to this rubbish for so long with rapt attention, he might never know. The woman had hardly blinked during the entire conversation. She was even nodding along, for Circe's sake.

Merlin, he knew how important it was for the Italian Minister to support this bill, but this was almost as dreadful as a lecture on cauldron bottom thickness. Draco was about to space out again when he heard Hermione insert her voice back into the conversation. As she spoke, she squeezed his bicep, her arm still looped through his. Though the squeeze could have told him a number of things, Hermione seemed to be saying something specific: she was in control.

"You know, Minister, I was just speaking to some of the members of the German delegation, and they told me, when I brought it up, that they definitely plan to sign your Portkey Bill."

The elderly man's eyes widened and he shifted slightly so that his bald head caught the light.

"Well isn't that brilliant, Miss Granger! It's perfect to have some confirmation." He reached forward and patted her shoulder. His hand lingered there for a moment before shifting his gaze over toward Draco for a moment. The old man looked him up and down before removing his hand and offering a smile at Hermione.

"It's a real shame that you are engaged, Miss Granger," the Italian Minister lamented as he leaned on his glass walking stick. "I had so hoped that you might take an interest in my son, Giovanni. A girl like you would be able to accomplish untold things with a man like my son by your side. Perhaps someone with connections might even help push this bill of yours."

If Hermione's grip on his arm hadn't been so tight, his jaw would have been on the ground. Though Draco didn't know what Wizarding schools in Italy were like, if they had anything comparable to Slytherin, this man would be a member. Was he actually attempting to manipulate Hermione?

Draco might not know his boss as well as he thought, but he definitely knew one thing after years by her side: she didn't take bullshit from anyone — especially from manipulative Slytherins. Any ordinary woman might have given in to the urge to slap this old man, but Hermione Granger was not an ordinary woman. Instead, she gripped his arm tighter and continued to smile.

Something about that smile sent a shiver down his entire body.

"Perhaps, Minister, but did I not tell you more about my fiance? This is Draco Malfoy. You may have heard of his family. They have centuries worth of history trading with Italian herbologists, if I recall. Isn't that right, _dear_?"

She squeezed his bicep again. As if he could read her mind, he somehow recognized that to be his signal to talk. If his boss wanted to subtly blackmail the Italian Minister of Magic, there was nothing to do but obey. Two Slytherins could play this game.

"Yes," he jumped in. "We have established quite the empire of apothecary shops throughout Europe. And the Malfoy family would love to have a continued positive relationship with all those herbologists and shops in Italy." He paused and smirked, his eyes darting to the woman hanging on his arm. "But I think you'll find, Minister, that Hermione is more than capable of achieving her goals without my family's influence."

The old man seemed affronted at Draco's sudden intrusion into the conversation as he stepped back. He tried to bluster through a handful of sentences before Hermione interrupted.

"I'm very much taken, Minister," she cooed. "And it's like my dear Draco said. Regardless of whether I have a man at my side or not, I still expect my Centaur Bill to be a part of your agenda this weekend. If you honestly don't think it's good legislation, that's one thing. But I know your position on this matter. And if you want to keep your name in good graces at the British Ministry as well as your herbologists and apothecaries in business, I suggest you stop your poor attempts at matchmaking and focus on the task at hand. Now if you'll excuse me."

Draco felt another squeeze on his bicep. What did she want from him this time? He couldn't think of anything in particular that she needed right now, so he shot her a quick glance. What he saw made his mouth go dry. Hermione's face was inches from his own. Even a quick look was enough time to see something flicker in her eyes. What was that? Lust?

Before he had time to think, Hermione reached up with her spare hand and cupped his cheek. Her body pressed into his personal space as she stood on her tiptoes and brushed her lips against his cheek. The kiss was light, almost like fairy wings against his skin.

Draco's heart thudded in his chest.

There was a small cough from beside them. "Well, you two certainly make a lovely couple," the Minister said through a tight-lipped smile. "Please let me know if there is anything I can do to further your Centaur Bill this weekend, Miss Granger."

Hermione shot the Minister another plastered-on grin before turning on her heel and marching the two of them toward the refreshment table. As she led the two of them away, she looked back at him and beamed.

There was something about that smile… something about her poise under pressure that drew him to her she had a tether on his heart. If only for a moment, wanton thoughts of the past weekend fell to the side as this confident, radiant Hermione Granger took center stage. In his mind, there was a distinct shift, and he could no longer ignore it.

As they continued to make their way around the room, her arm looped through his, he felt the familiar twitch, though this time it wasn't his cock. It was his chest.

* * *

Despite the nearly-constant semi-hardness in his trousers, Draco hardly had time to escape to the bathroom to relieve himself over the next two days. He spent most of the rest of the weekend glued to Hermione's side at a large conference table. Though he hardly said two words, he made sure to keep her notes in a pristine, organized fashion in case she needed to call upon any sort of documentation.

Though he normally envied Hermione for her higher position than him at the DIMC, this weekend seemed to be the exception. As he had witnessed during the Friday event, her social decorum was far more polished than his, and her ability to persuade and command was nothing short of spectacular.

Her shining moment from the weekend, without a doubt, came when she presented her case for the Centaur Bill before the entire summit. Watching her stand in front of a room full of people and speak with conviction was quickly becoming one of her most alluring qualities in his eyes. The timbre of her voice echoed in his head and made his heart pound in his ears. If she were to speak like that to him, he could easily see himself agreeing with just about anything she said.

Throughout the rest of the weekend, it slowly occurred to him that he was well and truly fucked.

He had never truly fancied simple women, despite pursuing them for so long. Seeing the complexities of Hermione's character painted before him like a great mural, Draco realized that every other girl he had been attracted to paled in comparison to her. She was the whole package: smart, driven, and sexy as hell.

Yes, he was definitely fucked.

* * *

When the larger sessions concluded just before lunch on Sunday, the Croatian Minister announced that all minor employees were dismissed for the remainder of the day; private discussions amongst only the ministers would commence later that afternoon. As the majority of the room's occupants began to pack up their belongings, Draco felt a tug on his robe sleeve. He didn't have to turn to his left to identify the culprit.

"Have lunch with me."

Hermione hadn't suggested this; it was an order. Who was he to disobey? A seasoned pro by this point, each time he followed through and did what was told, a little thrill ran through him. This time was no exception.

"Sure." He kept his tone cool and light as he rolled up the remaining parchments. Draco placed them inside his bag before offering his arm once more. Hermione took it with a smile and they strode from the room. She stayed on his arm even as they exited the Ministry and strolled through the nearby streets of magical Zagreb.

They found a little restaurant down an alley and slipped inside. Once at their table, Hermione finally unlooped her arm from his as she moved to sit. From the moment she made contact with the wooden booth, she slumped, leaning back and groaning.

"I am so very ready to go home," she said with a sigh, running her hands over her face so the skin stretched slightly.

"Got something to look forward to at home, then?" Draco asked, leaning back as well. "Surely your cat misses you."

Hermione shot him a disapproving glance before disappearing behind her menu.

"Actually, I just want this weekend to be over. Even though I've been preparing for months and have poured basically my entire soul into this bill, I am ready to be done… regardless of the outcome," she added.

Draco scoffed. "Are you telling me that the great and powerful Hermione Granger is actually willing to give up on something?" He picked up his copy of the menu that he definitely couldn't read and began to peruse the pictures.

"Not giving up," Hermione said lightly, "Just taking a break so I don't go mad. Or, at the very least, I'm in dire need of some stress relief. This wait might kill me otherwise."

Draco froze. Did she just say what he thought she said? Blaise's words from the week before poured back into his head:_ "She told me she needed stress relief. I happily obliged."_

This wasn't a proposition, was it?

"Malfoy, why do you look like you were just Stupefied?"

Hermione peered at him from over the top of her menu, eyes narrowed in concern.

He cleared his throat. "Oh, just… nothing."

She raised her eyebrows. "That didn't look like nothing. Was it something I said?"

Gods, this was the _worst_. There was no way he was about to admit to Hermione, his boss, that he had a very inappropriate conversation about her with Blaise Zabini, who apparently she had shagged multiple times, just days before.

"Erm, no. I just—"

"Malfoy, out with it."

There it was again. A command. From the moment the words slipped off her tongue, it was as though was compelled to obey them. He vaguely wondered if she had Imperiused him.

"I… I may have talked to Blaise last week."

Hermione's mouth twitched slightly. "And what did you talk about?"

She knew. She had to know.

"You."

Hermione's eyes went cold. "Based on the expression on your face, I presume he told you about our arrangement a few years ago, then."

Draco nodded, an uncomfortable pit forming in his stomach.

"Did he mention that he's an arsehole?"

Coughing, Draco set his menu down. "Well, he didn't mention it specifically. But I've known him for years, so that information doesn't exactly come as a shocker."

When Hermione didn't smile, he tried a different approach. "What happened with you and Blaise?"

Hermione set her own menu down, folding her arms and leaning on the table. She stared right at him, her eyes flashing. It was as though she was assessing him thoroughly to decide whether she wanted to tell him. He had to remind himself in that moment as she eyed him slightly suspiciously that his boss was not someone who opened up easily. Despite the intimate interaction they shared the week previously, she was still a woman with walls around her.

He prepared himself for venom. He prepared himself for the cold shoulder. He prepared himself for Hermione to push her walls so high that she would never even offer to be vulnerable around him again.

What he didn't prepare himself for was the actual answer.

"I came to Blaise a few years ago because I needed an outlet to relieve the stress caused by our internship. A handful of heads in our department wanted to promote me to a mid-level manager right away, but I had insisted on completing the intern phase with you. So instead of promoting me, they forced me to take on all kinds of projects I wasn't prepared to handle. That's why I never went home when you did."

"Why didn't you tell me?" interrupted Draco. "I could have stayed behind to help you. I was practically bored out of my skull fetching coffee."

Hermione offered him an apologetic look. "I thought you'd be jealous or something. The last thing I wanted was for you to think I was getting some sort of preferential treatment or that I had asked for it."

He grimaced. "You've got a point. Continue."

"In any case, all that extra pressure put me on edge. I was having trouble sleeping, even though I was exhausted. All I did was work, eat, and try to sleep. And those last two I only did if I remembered."

Draco exhaled, puffing his cheeks out. Just _listening_ to Hermione talk about this was exhausting.

"So I decided that I needed to take some initiative and do something to get rid of my stress. After researching at Flourish and Blotts and a number of failed experiments, I decided to try the one route I had avoided: sex." She spoke these words without a trace of a blush. "I decided to ask Blaise because I knew he did no-strings-attached well."

Hermione paused for a moment to take a deep breath.

"So what made him an arsehole?" Draco asked.

"What did he tell you?" she fired back. "I know he's talked about me, the cockroach."

Draco looked down at his menu again, now laying flat on the table. He stared at a picture of a rather-appetizing dish containing rice.

"Look at me when you're talking, Draco." Her tone wasn't harsh or reprimanding, but it was direct.

Draco swallowed and the words poured out of him as easily as sand through a sieve.

"He said that you were needy in bed. Said you were too demanding."

Hermione rolled her eyes.

"But he also said you were cool," Draco offered, shrugging.

"Blaise Zabini couldn't get me off. That, in of itself is not remarkable. Of my few previous encounters, none of them made me feel particularly good. I had a hard time admitting that both to myself and to the guys."

A tinge of pink had appeared on Hermione's cheeks, but she appeared to be pushing through it. In another time, he would have commented, but he had a vested interest in her words. He elected to stay silent, instead.

"Finally, with Blaise, I thought I had a chance to be more vocal. Because it was no-strings-attached, I figured that I could voice my opinion more and not be judged." At this point, her expression turned sour. "I was wrong. I asked Blaise if he would help me finish. He agreed, but never followed through. Each time he would beg off with different excuses until finally he confessed that he thought that I was too frigid to come at all."

Draco's jaw dropped, his eyes wide with horror. "Blaise _said_ that? To your face?"

Hermione nodded.

"What an arsehole!"

"I told you." She smirked, picking up her menu again. "So we ended our arrangement. He went on to fuck whomever he pleased and I went back to being stressed out."

A dark-haired waitress made her way to their table at this point, an expectant look on her face. The two of them hastily pointed to pictures of menu items without speaking a word, but the waitress seemed to understand.

When the woman had left with the menus tucked under her arm, Hermione leaned heavily on the table. "I think the thing that bothered me most was that he just wouldn't put the work in to make me feel good. He didn't want to. Didn't think it was worth his time."

Hermione's eyes had gone glassy and a frown had taken over her face.

Draco watched her for a moment, a sick feeling in his stomach.

"I would," he said plainly.

Hermione's focus snapped back to him.

"You would what?"

"I would put in the work."

* * *

Draco wasn't surprised that the Centaur Bill passed nearly unanimously. Hermione Granger, brightest witch of her age and queen of persuasion, had done it. She hugged him tightly when the results had been announced back in the large conference room at the Ministry. He wasn't sure if they had just been caught up in the moment, but something about that congratulatory hug had felt right, like they were puzzle pieces fitted together. Standing with his arms wrapped tightly around her back, her body tucked into his, Draco felt entirely satisfied.

He was fairly certain it wasn't only due to their political success.

Dinner at the Ministry of Magic that night was a grand affair, and all attendees were expected to dress to the nines for a farewell cocktail hour and banquet. Draco straightened his bowtie for the third time as he paced outside Hermione's hotel room door. They were supposed to be at the event already. There would surely be a throng of people eager to shake her hand and offer her congratulations on her perseverance, and Draco wasn't going to deny her the well-deserved attention.

Casting _Tempus_, the numbers hanging in the air told him they were definitely late. He sighed and knocked lightly on her door.

"Hey Granger, we've got to get go—"

The door opened, and Hermione squeaked, jumping slightly when she saw him. "Oh, Draco! You surprised me."

Draco took the two seconds of her shocked stillness to admire her.

Hermione looked nothing short of stunning. She wore a floor-length black dress that plunged low enough to tease, but still remained classy. The dress looked smooth and flowing, and the way it hugged her curves made his palms sweat and his cock twitch. He had to ignore the impulse to draw her close and press his lips to hers.

Instead, Draco took a step back to let her pass into the hallway. As she walked by him, she placed her hand on his shoulder for a moment, shooting him a look he couldn't quite place before trailing that hand down his arm until she laced her fingers with his. A great shiver traveled up his spine; he felt it radiate at the base of his skull. Why was she holding his hand now? They weren't posing as fiancés at the moment.

He decided not to question her and simply let it happen.

Draco's chest felt warm as Hermione's thumb brushed over the back of his hand. Granted, it always felt lovely to hold hands with a witch, but not even Astoria had made his stomach flutter like this when her fingers had touched his. They walked side-by-side, his dress shoe-clad feet matching pace with her high-heeled ones.

The Croatian Ministry had arranged for direct Floo transportation between the hotel lobby and the Ministry Atrium. After their identities had been verified, guests were allowed to pass through.

"You look beautiful, Granger," he offered as they approached the Floo behind a handful of other attendees.

She beamed up at him, a warm glow in her cheeks. "Thank you, Draco. You look rather handsome, yourself."

It took him a minute to process her response before he realized it was the second time she had used his given name in the last couple of minutes. The way the syllables rolled off her tongue sounded nearly foreign, yet also completely familiar. Perhaps that made sense in a way. He still called the woman by her surname, though he thought of her as _Hermione_ in his head. Draco opened his mouth to ask her why she had made this sudden switch, but before he could get out a single word, they stepped to the front of the queue.

Suddenly, keeping Hermione's dress from rumpling or riding up became the priority. She held the fabric in place as she prepared to travel — first her, then him. He couldn't help but admire the way this dress clung to her as she rearranged it after stepping into the grate.

He could have sworn she caught him ogling; what else would that glint in her eye have been?

From the moment they arrived in the atrium, they were twice bombarded: once, by the expected throng of congratulatory wishes and twice, by never-emptying glasses of champagne. Taking his hand once more, Hermione shot him a slightly overwhelmed glance. He offered her hand a little squeeze. They both grabbed flutes and began to fend off the crowd.

As always, Draco felt slightly envious at Hermione's obvious social ease. She seemed to be able to hold a conversation with each and every person who came up to her to shake her hand. The champagne surely wasn't hurting that cause.

After several minutes of milling around the atrium hand-in-hand and after a full glass of champagne, Draco felt Hermione's grip on his fingers loosen until she let go completely. Momentarily, he felt oddly exposed and empty without her hand to hold onto. That was, until she wrapped her arm around his waist instead.

It might have been the fault of the champagne he had been constantly sipping or it might have been the not-so-innocent thoughts that were forming in his head, but he felt a blush grow on his cheeks. Summoning his courage, he extracted his own arm from between them and slipped it around her side. The feel of the smooth fabric of her dress beneath his fingers was intoxicating. He began to run his thumb along her waistline.

The warmth in his chest returned. As the cocktail hour ticked by, they continued to talk to various attendees and Hermione began to lean into his side and into his touch. Through his dress robes, he could feel her thumb performing the same gentle rubbing on his waist.

Their mutual touches grew bolder as the night wore on and everyone moved to sit for dinner. Though they never exchanged two words, choosing to engage in conversation with other various witches and wizards, one look under the table told a different story.

Hermione rested her foot against his. She had removed her heel, it seemed, and ran her bare foot along his calf. Between courses, one of her hands moved under the tablecloth to rest on his thigh. Though she didn't do anything other than simply set her hand there, he knew then and there he was a goner. He tried to keep a straight face as dinner wore on. All this touching somehow seemed far more intimate than anything they had done last weekend. Not only was his groin having a strong reaction, but he was sure his face was fully flushed at this point. He certainly knew there was blood pumping through his body; the staccato of his heartbeat pounded in his ears as Hermione's fingers traced circles in his inner thigh.

All the champagne he had drunk had surely gone to his head by now. Was Hermione also feeling similarly drunk? How much champagne had she had? Surely, he was imagining this entire scenario. The world felt a little fuzzy around the edges at the moment, so why should this be real?

Dinner ended shortly thereafter, and at its conclusion, everyone stood, pushed in their chairs, and retired for the evening. Hermione held his hand tightly as they bid a number of important individuals goodnight; the action should have grounded him, but it was as though he was floating through the atrium.

This floating sensation continued as the two of them returned to the hotel by Floo powder and made their way up to their respective hotel rooms. Draco felt his palms grow sweaty as they approached the third floor. Hermione had been so bold this evening, taking liberties with her fingers that would hardly be considered appropriate for a political event. With every step that drew them closer to their neighboring rooms, his body seemed to grow more and more paralyzed.

First, his tongue: he couldn't seem to form words as their feet padded down the carpeted hallway.

Next, his hands: the firm grip on Hermione's hand faded until his slippery fingers fell to his side. She did not reach to grab it again.

Then, his lungs: as he and Hermione reached the little spot between their doors, the look in her chocolate eyes made it impossible for him to breathe.

For a moment, the air felt heavy — oppressive, almost. This was it. This was the point of no return. Hermione looked up at him, eyes wide. She didn't say anything. Nor did she make a move. In the empty space filled by her inaction, it seemed she had left room for him to take charge.

But his body remained paralyzed, and though he tried to form words, it was like his tongue had gone impotent and limp in his mouth.

The silence stretched past a minute.

"Congratulations," he managed to choke out after several attempts. "You did good."

Draco cursed himself. _'You did good?'_ Rubbish. Absolute rubbish.

"Thanks," Hermione's lips stretched into a smile.

Silence once more. Though thoughts filled Draco's head, none seemed to filter down to his tongue.

"Well, goodnight," Hermione murmured, turning to unlock her hotel room.

His legs, too, had now become paralyzed.

_Move, damnit. Move!_

He watched her go, feet rooted to the spot.

She didn't look back. The door snapped shut.

All at once, the paralysis lifted from his body. His muscles relaxed; they felt light and pliant again. Breath returned to his lungs in full. His fingers flexed. His tongue broke free of its prison as he swore quietly. Now standing quite alone in the middle of the silent, empty hotel hallway, Draco stared at Hermione's plain, black door. He was unsure how to proceed. Should he go after her? Did she want him to? Or had she basically just told him to sod off? Thoughts swirled around his head as the silence pressed in on him further.

Before he could stop to consider the ramifications for his actions; before he could hesitate or freeze up again or simply retreat to the safety of his own room, he surged forward.

_Tap, tap, tap._

His knuckles wrapped on the wood three times in quick succession.

And though he was sure the opportunity had passed — sure that Hermione would ignore his sudden turnaround, somehow, miraculously, she opened the door.

Draco would not miss this opportunity again.

He stepped forward past the threshold, kicked the door shut with his foot, and pressed himself into her space. Though they didn't touch, all he would have to do was to lean forward ever so slightly to restore that touch that had driven him mad all through dinner.

So he did.

Draco crushed his lips to hers. They had exchanged small pecks on the cheek throughout the weekend, but none of those insignificant kisses compared to this. The feel of her lips, soft and warm, shot a violent shiver down his torso. It seemed Hermione had wanted this, because her reaction was immediate. Her hands wrapped around the nape of his neck, the fingers that had rubbed circles in his waist now scraping the back of his skull as if trying to hold on for dear life. She drew her body flush to his.

He could feel every bit of her, and the sensation went straight to his groin. As he slanted his mouth over hers, his tongue swiping her bottom lip, Hermione growled and kissed him harder. Every touch this past week —every glance — had led to this moment of raw lust. Draco couldn't help himself as he ground his pelvis into hers. When she bucked back, it was as though something far wilder — far more feral had taken over their brains.

Or rather, just his.

When Hermione pulled back after some unknown passage of time, chest heaving and lips swollen, she had an unusual look in her eyes. There was lust there, yes, but there was something else.

_Fire. _

Draco swallowed.

"I brought a Pixie with me."

He blinked, his brain trying desperately to focus on her words and not his desire to feel her body on his again. She had brought a vibrator… that blue one…

Draco's mouth went dry.

He had probably been silent too long, because Hermione asked, "You _do_ remember the Pixie, don't you?"

"How could I forget?" His chest rumbled as he spoke.

"Well then, shall we check your memory? See how well you remember your lesson?"

If he hadn't been hard before, he was now. Though he had been so sure that his dress robes would successfully hide any hint of his arousal, his reaction to Hermione's words proved him wrong. His erection strained painfully against his trousers, and he wanted nothing more than to take himself and find some relief in whatever way it came.

But he wasn't an inexperienced adolescent. He had patience. He had restraint.

Hermione crooked her finger at him, and almost as though he had an invisible string attached to his chest, she pulled him forward toward her hotel bed. Draco stood by the flowery bedspread as she fished the device from her suitcase, allowing himself the luxury to simply soak in her gorgeous form.

When Hermione turned around, blue Pixie vibrator in hand, she took two steps toward him and placed it in his palm. It felt as smooth as he remembered; its weight even felt familiar. Yet, nothing about this situation was familiar. Nothing about what he was about to do to Hermione was familiar at all.

Draco's heart faltered. The false sense of security that the champagne had given him now seemed to be fading, and reality was beginning to drip around him.

"What's wrong?" Hermione asked, her brows furrowed. "Do you not want to—?"

"I do!" Draco interjected. "I do." He took a deep, shuddering breath. "I just… after last week…" Draco closed his eyes and shook his head. He had to just get the words out. "I honestly don't know if I've ever made a woman come before."

The sentence hung in midair between them, awkward and sincere.

She didn't flinch.

"That doesn't make you any less of a man, Draco. What makes you a man is admitting it out loud and wanting to do something about it. Wanting to learn." Hermione placed her hand over his and reached forward to tap the vibrator with her wand.

"_Pulso_."

The Pixie came to life, buzzing into his palm. His skin was still sweaty. Draco's eyes flicked between the vibrator and Hermione. She looked at him for just a second longer, that same fire in her eyes, before she began to unzip her dress.

Fighting every self-preserving, Slytherin instinct in his body, Draco reached forward and stilled her hand. His heart pounding, he pulled the zipper down, himself and watched as the black, silky dress pooled at Hermione's feet.

She hadn't been wearing a bra. Or knickers.

"Fuck," he whispered, drinking her in. She looked even better than in his memory. Everything about her body was perfect for him. He followed the line of her curvaceous hips to the junction of her thighs and the patch of dark curls that rested there. Those, of course, he had already seen. Traveling upward past her stomach, her breasts sat, round and enticing on her chest. He wanted nothing more than to bury his face between them and lose himself in the feel of her soft flesh on his cheeks. His erection strained even more in his trousers.

"Make me come, Draco," Hermione purred as she sank onto the bed, spreading her legs.

Draco didn't need to be told twice.

He practically dove forward, kneeling on the bed beside her, Pixie in hand. Her beautiful landscape stretched before him, pink and glistening. Hermione was beautiful. He couldn't resist leaning forward and running a single digit along her slit several times, pressing down on what he thought was the right spot. She squirmed under his touch, and his chest swelled with pride. Surely, this was pure delight.

"Give the Pixie a go," Hermione said from above.

Nodding, he adjusted both himself and his grip on the vibrator. Then, slowly, carefully, he lowered it onto her little nub.

The result was immediate.

Hermione writhed underneath him, her muscles tensing with every little pulse of the Pixie.

"Move it up and down a bit," she commanded.

There they were again. The orders. He grinned and obeyed.

Within a few minutes of following her directions to the letter, Hermione seemed to have lost all power of speech. Instead, she had begun to moan, her hips lifting off the mattress of their own accord in an erratic rhythm.

"Draco!" she managed to babble as he pressed the vibrator onto her clit more firmly, still.

All at once, her tightened muscles relaxed as she opened her mouth in a silent scream, her entire pelvis lifting off the bed. There was no mistaking what he was seeing. Hermione Granger had just climaxed at his own hand.

Well, vibrator. But still.

Hermione stayed like this for several long seconds as she rode out her orgasm. When she finally finished, she collapsed back onto the pillows and wiped a layer of sweat from her forehead. She panted and rolled her head to the side.

"I have to tell you something."

Draco froze immediately after tapping the Pixie with his wand to end the vibrations. What on earth was Hermione compelled to say immediately following an orgasm that he had given her? Surely nothing good.

Right?

He cleared his throat. "Yeah?"

"That story I told you earlier—the one one involving Blaise? I left out a detail."

"Oh?" He tried to distract himself by watching her breasts heave up and down with each breath she took. "And what would that be?"

"That I didn't want stress relief from Blaise." She gave him a significant look.

His heart leapt into his throat. Was she insinuating something?

"Then what _did_ you want?" he choked, his eyes finally landing on hers.

"You."

Draco's eyes grew wide as he watched her expression. There was no hint of insincerity in their depths. He licked his lips. She had wanted to ask _him_ for stress relief all those years ago? He inwardly cursed himself for not asking her out properly back then. His eyes continued to search hers, his lips forming the only word they could.

"Why?"

"Because you always treated me like a person during our eighth year. And again as interns. Everyone else wanted to hold me up on this pedestal and you just treated me as I wanted to be seen. I just felt comfortable around you."

Draco furrowed his eyebrows. "I… I made you feel comfortable? Even after everything I said to you as kids?"

"We aren't kids any more, Draco. We weren't then, either."

"But still…"

"I wanted you to fuck me into my mattress back then as stress relief, yes—" Draco blanched at her frankness."—but I also hoped that if you did, perhaps you might learn to see me as something… something more than that. But with my previous...issues in bed, I didn't want you to be disappointed in me. Or for me to be disappointed in you. So I asked Mr. No-Strings-Attached."

Hermione sat up, her fingers fidgeting. She wouldn't look him in the eye. Draco felt the shield she put up around herself crack completely and crumble. This was surely Hermione Granger at her most vulnerable. Not when she had her legs spread or when she was in the throes of pleasure, but when she showed her heart.

No one spoke for a while.

Draco tried several times, but his throat felt like the Sahara.

Only when he saw her shoulders slump a bit did he find it in himself to say something.

"I… I would have liked that, Granger." Draco placed a hand on her bare back, and felt her hair stand on end. He watched her blink and turn to face him, a mixture of hope and fear in her dark eyes. She swallowed.

"Yeah?"

"Yeah."

"And now?" she asked quietly, flicking her eyes up to meet his.

Draco didn't look away as he responded with a smirk. "Why don't you tell me?"

There was an immediate change in Hermione's demeanor. Her pupils dilated and her breathing grew shallow. The fire had returned.

"Kiss me," she ordered.

He obeyed.

Their mouths met in a moment of forceful passion such that Draco had never experienced before. This was the kiss of all kisses. Every passing second shot his arousal higher as he crawled over her, his clothed body covering every inch of her naked one. Lust clouded his brain as he began to kiss down her neck, stopping to suck at a spot on her breastbone that she would surely be able to glamour in the morning.

Without stopping to feel him over his clothes, Hermione began to undress him, tugging his shirt from his trousers and shrugging his robe off his shoulders. Surely, the champagne was still in effect, because he was too occupied with kissing every inch of Hermione's skin that he hardly noticed his belt coming undone and his trousers and pants being pushed down to his ankles.

And then her hands were on him for the second time in his life, and the slight fog turned opaque. She stroked him with confidence, her skilled, practiced hands deliberate in every movement. Surely, there was no sensation better than this. Only a few moments in, and he felt ready to burst.

_No. He had to last! _

Pulling away just beyond her grasp, he rearranged himself until he had positioned himself at her entrance. Draco looked to Hermione for permission.

"Fuck me," she commanded.

Draco pushed into her and was immediately overcome with his own mistaken impression.

_This_ was the ultimate sensation. Sheathed inside her, he felt nothing but pleasure radiating through his whole body, even buzzing at the back of his skull. Hermione, it seemed, also felt good, because she groaned from beneath him.

"Good?" he asked.

"Good," she confirmed.

Draco withdrew almost all the way and slammed into her. He began a punishing pace as he fucked her into the mattress. Hermione wrapped her legs around his waist, drawing him even closer. His eyes rolled back in his head as he bucked forward into her. The tight, slick heat of her cunt drove him mad as he continued to pound into her, relentless.

"Shit, Hermione," he groaned into her hair. His balls were beginning to tighten. It had been quite a while… surely he wasn't going to last.

She gave a small moan in response, but from the moment the sound grated his ears, he knew something was off. A little voice in his head reminded him that she had never been able to come without assistance during sex. She had admitted that to him.

There was no way she was close. Not nearly as close as he was, anyway.

Something had to be done about that problem.

Both his wand and the Pixie were out of reach at the moment.

His hand would have to do.

Reaching between their bodies, Draco pressed his thumb onto Hermione's nub, praying this would give her some pleasure.

To his delight, she gasped and began to squirm beneath him again. Though not as intense as with the Pixie, her movements seemed similar enough to be convincing. Her pleasure hopefully building once more, Draco continued his mistrations as he rearranged their bodies, dragging her to the edge of the bed and plunging back into her.

The two of them bucked together, their synchronous moans growing louder by the second until the pressure built up too much for him to hold any more. Draco pulled out and emptied himself onto Hermione, coating her stomach and breasts.

Draco collapsed onto his elbows, his torso hovering just above hers as they both panted. He could feel her warm breath on his cheeks, and it made him feel alive.

She smiled up at him. He smiled back.

After another moment, he rolled over and reached for his wand, returning to Scourgify her torso. Job complete, he collapsed beside her.

"Was it good for you?" he asked, closing his eyes.

"It was," she replied, her voice just as breathy.

"Don't lie to me, Granger."

"After all that and you still want to use my surname?" she joked. Draco turned his head and opened one eye. She was grinning at him.

"Fine," he grumbled. "_Hermione_. Don't lie to me. Was it actually good?"

"Well, I didn't finish with just your hand," she began. Draco tilted his head back, frowning. "But combining your hand and the feeling of you inside me… it's the closest I've ever come without a toy."

Draco sat up. "Are you serious?"

Hermione's eyes shone as she spoke. "Completely."

For one brilliant moment, Draco felt his ego inflate. He had been better than bloody Blaise Zabini! It was enough gloating material to last ages.

But another glance back at Hermione brought a strange pang to his chest. Yes, he had made Hermione feel better than Blaise, but she still hadn't finished.

She hadn't finished, and he _cared._

"That's not good enough."

Hermione turned onto her side so she was facing him. "What isn't?"

"The fact that the sex felt good. It's not good enough. I want you to feel as incredible as I felt when I was buried inside of you."

Hermione sighed. "I'm not sure if you remember, but that's no easy feat."

Draco stared into her eyes, a fire in his belly. "I don't care. I want to come at the same time as you so hard that we can't remember each other's names, and I'm going to work damn hard to see that happen."

There was a pause. Hermione blinked at the ceiling. "But why?" she asked.

"Because you deserve it."

Another pause.

Hermione rolled until she was on top of him, arms braced on either side of his head.

"But _why,_ Draco?"

It seemed he couldn't say anything but the truth to this woman.

"Because I've also wanted you for a long time. I almost asked you on a date twice before—"

"You what?" Her mouth hung open in shock. "When?"

"During eighth year and again during our internship. I talked myself out of it both times."

In that moment, something significant passed between the two of them. Though surely it wasn't love — not yet, anyway — it had to be something akin to affection… admiration… desire.

"I wish you had," Hermione offered. "It would have saved me years of wondering."

"And years of bad sex," Draco finished.

Hermione laughed.

He liked it when she laughed.

Hermione said as she cuddled into his side. "Not only is the sex good, but I actually like you."

"You just like that I'm a bloke who's willing to learn how to please you," he teased.

"Oh, there's loads more to learn. Didn't you see the box at home? The Pixie is just the beginning."

Draco felt a blush rise on his cheeks once more as his mind jumped to the giant, black Dragon. "You mean, actually try out all those different toys?"

Hermione nodded. "Only if you're comfortable, obviously. But I think we could have a lot of fun."

Draco knew he should have felt intimidated at the prospect of venturing into the sexual unknown with Hermione Granger. He should have been humiliated that she was teaching him and not vice versa. He should have been mortified that he would look like an idiot in front of her. And he hated feeling like an idiot.

But oddly, he didn't feel any of those things.

Instead, the thought of experimenting with Granger sounded exciting. Through this past week, he had found that she actually made him comfortable enough that he had yet to feel like an idiot in her presence.

"All right. Let's do it."

Hermione leaned over to kiss him on the cheek. "Excellent. Because I was thinking we could try _Kama_ out when we get home. The couples' vibrator."

Despite the fact that he had just come minutes before, Draco felt himself harden at the thought.

"Of course, we'll have to tone it down at work." Hermione spoke matter-of-factly, her face serious. "Do you know how difficult it was to be your boss and be attracted to you? Don't you realize how hard it will be now?"

"Do you mean to say," Draco murmured, reaching up to cup the back of her neck in his hand, "that you have a strict no-shagging-in-the-office policy?"

Hermione's eyes turned velvet. "Now, I didn't say those words exactly…"

"Tell me what to do, boss. I'll gladly oblige."

A grin spread across Hermione's face.

"All right then. Make us both come until what was it—? _We can't remember each other's names."_

Draco groaned.

In one move, he flipped the two of them over so he was on top once more. He reached for the Pixie once more and it began to buzz against his hand.

"You're the boss."

* * *

**And with that, our story has come to an end. I hope you liked it! It was so, so fun to write Hermione and Draco with this dynamic covering this particular topic.**

**I hope I made you smile, laugh, and even need a cold shower ;) **

**If you enjoyed the piece, please let me know in a review!**

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